


The Ghastliness of Honour

by toggledog



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toggledog/pseuds/toggledog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is overly protective of his nephews, and is particularly fearful of their ‘honour’ being desecrated. An increasingly attracted Bilbo begins to realise that Thorin is actually referring to himself and attempts to help him regain his own honour.</p><p>Based on two kinkmeme prompts:</p><p>During exile years it was not unusual for Thorin to trade valuables and services to provide safety for his people.<br/>But this time some lesser human lord is asking for something a dwarf would only share with his chosen one: sex.<br/>Ultimately Thorin has no choice but to give in, but the whole experience is deeply<br/>traumatic for him, and a haunting taint on his honor.</p><p>Thorin was raped in the past. Now he cannot even bear the thought of someone touching him & believes<br/>that sex is always painful for the one who bottoms. Bilbo slowly gets under his skin and into his pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> major Return of the King and The Hobbit (book verse) spoilers.  
> A very excellent story for kinkmeme prompt one is here:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=810174  
> Much like The Hobbit movie, I plan to begin and end this tale with events 60 or so years later. I’m inferring the ‘Grey Havens’ to mean the ‘afterlife’.

The scenery of vivid green forest over snowcapped mountains and closer pale emerald water lapping at the ship’s bow did nothing to quell the knot tightening in Frodo’s stomach. Though he had made peace with his decision many weeks before, uncertain thoughts now kept popping up in his brain, like the weeds that would once fester in his garden, despite Sam’s constant attention. He recalled the tears of his friends, the confusion and sorrow at his leaving. He thought of a promise made to him by Sam, a long time ago.

_“Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. And I don’t mean to.”_

“It is perfectly natural to mourn those you have left behind.” The deep voice sounded behind him. “It will only be a brief parting. The years will be as fleeting moments.”

Frodo felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He reached up and felt the warmth of the hand in his own.

“Yes, yes. That is true.” The second voice sounded familiar somehow, though he was certain that he had never heard it before. Frodo turned and could not contain his gasp. He had only seen the man that now stood before him in pictures of old.

“I’m young again, Gandalf!” Bilbo, for it could only be Bilbo, laughed and did a jolly little dance on the spot. His face was now unlined and his hair reddish brown. He did not appear much older than Frodo was now.

“But, of course.” Gandalf did not smile, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye. “On the ship to the Grey Havens, you revert back to the age you feel you were at your finest. I remain the same age, as I have always been at my finest.”

Frodo couldn’t help but laugh. It felt beyond wonderful. A simple exclamation of joy.

“You look wonderful, Bilbo!” He threw himself into his uncle’s arms.

“Yes, yes. I feel wonderful.” He pulled away from Frodo. “Joyous to see you finally laugh and smile again, Frodo.”

“Sit with me.” Bilbo collapsed onto the wooden bench behind them and took out his pipe. Frodo moved to sit beside him, still reeling at the youth in his uncle’s face. He suddenly realized that Gandalf had left them both alone.

“I have a story to tell you.”

“Another one?” Frodo was always ready for Bilbo’s tales of adventure.

“Well, not exactly. Do you remember when I told you the story of the dragon?” Bilbo said, putting pipeweed in the mouth of the pipe.

“How could I forget?” Frodo recalled, in his mind, surly dwarfs, plundered gold, a vast battle and a hobbit in the middle.

“Hm… well…” Bilbo stuck the pipe in his mouth closed his mouth, quietly sucking a long moment. Frodo waited patiently. “I did not tell you the entire story.”

“Not the entire story?” Frodo could not see how he could possibly miss anything in his vivid retelling.

“Mainly because it pained me too much to recount.”

Frodo felt his heart clench at the thought of his beloved uncle feeling such anguish. “Oh Bilbo…”

“No need to feel sad for me now, Frodo. This is a joyous occasion!” He sucked on his pipe. “Did you ever wonder why I never took a wife for marriage? Nor even a man for dalliance?”

Frodo considered this thoughtfully. It had occurred once or twice in his mind. He had not been so presumptuous to ask, however.

At seeing his face, Bilbo laughed. “Of all the unfortunate luck! There was only one who I ever loved so completely and utterly…”

The laughter fell from his face. He appeared despondent a moment, before a smile uplifted the frown lines.

“Let me tell you the parts that I missed, in my Hobbit’s tale…”  
###

Bilbo Baggins of the Shire was certainly not going to let a bunch of unruly dwarves get the better of him. No, he was a good, respectable hobbit. He did not deserve this utter nonsense. In the morning, he would tell these plunderers, these raucous marauders that they had to leave his premises immediately! This time he would not take no for an answer. If Gandalf tried to interfere, then he would order him out too. No wizard, no matter how frightening at times, with his unorthodox magic, would intimidate him.

Feeling better about himself, Bilbo climbed out of bed and moved out of the room. A pile of dwarves snored and drooled out in the hall outside. Frowning, he carefully maneuvered his way around them, careful not to step on any outstretched, foot or leg, as he made his way to the room to the back, to take care of a basic bodily function.

Once he had relieved himself, he cleaned and dried his hands and moved quickly back to his room, thinking dearly of his very fluffy pillow. He started, as he heard a distinct giggle, coming from his pantry.

 _Impossible dwarves!_ He stomped back down the hall, this time not caring who he stepped on.

I should give them a piece of my-

He opened the circular door to the pantry.

And instantly regretted doing it.

The younger two of the dwarves were naked, and up to… mischief. In his pantry. _In my pantry!_ Bilbo fumed. The brunet, pushed right up against one of Bilbo’s empty cupboards, faced the hobbit. His partner’s ass moved in frantic motions, as he slammed into his lover over and over.

“Oh Kili! As ever, you are fantastic!” The blond moaned, hiking the brunet’s legs further around himself.

Bilbo knew what they were doing. He simply didn’t want to believe what he was seeing. Especially as they had the audacity to do it in his empty pantry.

“Do you mind? We’re kinda busy here.” Kili said, opening his eyes to look at Bilbo directly. His face was slightly flushed. Both laughed, but continued in their movements.

Bilbo should have told them to leave, right then and there. Instead, he slammed the door shut to their continued groans, feeling heat rise in his face.

“No,” he said to himself. “No no no no!”

About turning, he made his way to the dining room. No, he would not put up with this nonsense! He would tell the leader himself that none of this group was in any way welcome in his house.

_What was the name again? Thalin? Thorin._

_Thorin, that’s it._

Bilbo reached the entrance to the dining room and stopped short. Gandalf, Thorin, and the elder dwarf, sat huddled, Gandalf’s back to him, Thorin and elder dwarf showing their profile. He searched his mind for the elder’s name.

_Balin._

Their whispered speech and closeness suggested a confidentiality to which Bilbo inferred they would not want him a part of. Feeling foolish, but wanting to listen in, nevertheless, Bilbo moved to stand just outside the entrance, pressed up against the wall.

“- this mission.” Gandalf said.

“There is one other point of contention, that I would like to bring up.” Bilbo recognized Thorin’s gruffer tones. “Fili and Kili.”

_Ah! So he recognizes them for the rapscallions that they are!_

“Balin, in the morning you will send them home. I will not have any harm on my conscience.”

“What harm would befall Fili or Kili that wouldn’t befall the rest of us?” Balin protested.

_Apart from any harm I may give them, if they desecrate my pantry again!_

“They are both talented fighters, eager to prove themselves. Indeed, Kili has the best eyes and ears of all of us. Plus, they love each other and do their utmost to protect the other. For that reason, alone, I would count them as among the least likely to be injured!”

“You forget, there are more harms to be done to a dwarf than mere injury in battle. It is a blessing, as their uncle, to see what handsome dwarves they’ve grown up to be. But it is also a curse. I see the leering eyes of men, that would do their utmost to destroy the very honour they uphold. You recall, merely a day before, while in that despicable tavern, one such sickened man tried to put a hand through Kili’s hair! To think that he would dare-!”

“And I also recall Kili placing an arrow to the man’s throat, daring him to touch just one more strand.” Balin said. “And if he had, he would have the rest of us to contend with. This includes his rather ferocious uncle.” He said the last sentence with a touch of lightness.

“I will not allow my nephews to be playthings for the vile lusts of men!”

“It is a dishonour to yourself, and to them, to see the world in such grey tones.” Gandalf spoke softly, but Bilbo could hear anger in his voice. “Just as not all elves will betray you, nor are all men prey to their sickening fits of lust-“

“Of all your intellect, you know nothing of the world!”

Bilbo heard a chair move back suddenly and footsteps quickly race towards the opening. He scuttled backwards, looking around for something to hide behind. Thorin stormed past with nary a glance in his direction.

“He thinks that we do not know.” Balin said. “I knew from the moment he came back in, the stagger in his walk, the hollow look in his eyes.”

Bilbo frowned, sensing that they were discussing something vital but was amiss as to what. It was as though they were suddenly reverting to the dwarven language, such was his understanding.

“It does not make him less of a king. If anything, it makes him more of one. To bear such anguish with such strength.”

“It is a regret that such a horror exists in this world.” Gandalf said his tone mournful.

Feeling even more like an eavesdropper, Bilbo quietly crept away from the whispered voices, his mind, and heart, troubled by what he had just heard.

Tbc…


	2. The Ghastliness of Honour Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who read and reviewed! Hope you like this one :)

Bilbo sat a little away from the others, resting his chin against the palm of his hand, staring blankly at the weeds before him. Such was the beauty of the area, that even the weeds were bright pink and purple flowers, of such loveliness it would make any other hobbit gasp at the sight. Not Bilbo Baggins, however. It would take rather a majestic sight, indeed, to shake him from his current funk. It was only a few days in, and he was already regretting changing his mind about going in this adventure. He missed the Shire with such keenness; he felt it as a sharp ache in his very bones. He shook fond thoughts of his fine china and fluffy blankets. If he kept the images in his mind, they would turn his momentary good mood to a greater despondency.

Indeed, what was he thinking? Traversing the wilderness with a bunch of raucous dwarves! Gandalf had left the day before, proving he had far more sense than Bilbo did. He considered turning away, simply going back to the Shire. He had no business with treasure and dragons. The way he saw it, if he left dragons alone, in return, they would leave him alone. But Thorin was determined, however, to follow through with the mission.

_Thorin…_

Bilbo raised his hand to wipe at his face, feeling oddly exhausted. He found himself looking in the dwarf’s direction more than once, in the past few days. Something in the proud, strong presence made Bilbo thirst to prove himself. Thorin appeared brittle, unyielding, but there were moments of tenderness, of humour. More than once, he looked at his nephews with such devotion and love that Bilbo felt his own heart break a little at the sight. Rarer still, he would laugh, or smile. In these moments, his face would light up with such a beauteous countenance that Bilbo would find himself feeling rather… awkward at the sight.

If he was truthful with himself, it was getting more and more difficult not to feel awkward in the presence of Thorin. The story Balin told a few nights before, only served to increase his intrigue further. Here was a prince with kingly attributes. Yet, there was vulnerability there, hidden deep beneath the abrasive exterior. Bilbo caught it in the occasional glance of his piercing blue eyes, particularly when they directed at whatever mischief Fili and Kili were getting up to.

It all came to a head earlier that afternoon. He was seated in a glade, eating supper (another annoyance was the despicable lack of time for eating. He was wasting away!) when Fili and Kili came up to him.

“We have news for Thorin. I have spied an outcrop a few acres yonder, high enough to see any potential threat. This would be a better place to camp, for the night.” Fili said.

“And you’re telling me because…?” None of the three had mentioned the night in the pantry. Bilbo had decided to let it go, for the sake of unity for the group. As a result, the brothers were somewhat more amenable, with him.

“We have many a task to do. All the others are busy, too.”

Bilbo looked over to the other dwarves. A few hunkered around a small campfire, assembling the logs and twigs. A few others were bringing in firewood from the surrounding area. Most of the others simply sat together, talking and singing merry tunes.

“We thought you the best one to deliver the message.” Fili put on his most winning smile.

Bilbo eyed them both suspiciously.

“He’s by the lake. Just go through the path on the right. On ya, chappie.” Fili clapped him on the back. “Come on, Kili.”

They disappeared into the forest. Bilbo stared after them.

_No doubt going off to do more of what they were doing in my pantry!_

Sighing, Bilbo stood up. He would not be finishing supper. That was certain.

A small path cut through the brambling trees on his right. Bilbo stared to make his way through it. Tiny branches whipped at his face and more than once, he almost tripped over a snaking root. The path opened out to a small, burbling creek. Thorin was climbing out of the azure calm water. He was-

Bilbo gulped.

_Oh… my…_

The prince was naked. Bilbo took in the broad shoulders and muscled frame, his excitement narrowing to an area of the body he usually didn’t have much use for, back in the Shire.

Quick movement sounded to his right. He turned, to a knife against his throat, and a very surly Dwalin right up close to his face.

“How dare you spy on the prince while he is bathing!”

“I wasn’t!” Bilbo decided right then and there that he would strangle Kili and Fili, upon returning to camp. “I came to deliver a message!”

“That is enough, Dwalin!”

Much to Bilbo’s relief, Dwalin pulled away.

A robe now covered Thorin’s nakedness. Bilbo was torn as to whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

“What do you want?!” He appeared as angry as Dwalin. But there was something else too. His fingers, that held his robes together twitched convulsively, as though attempting to repress another movement. While Dwalin’s face was red with anger, Thorin’s appeared pale…. Too pale.

“Kili…” Bilbo stammered. “Kili says he’s found another outcrop, where we could sleep for the night. He says it is high enough, so we can see any enemy that may come our way.”

“Very well. Tell the others we will go to the other outcrop. You are excused.”

As Bilbo moved away, he heard Thorin berate Dwalin for allowing another to come upon him while he was bathing.

“I admit to not seeing him, at first. He is so small and nimble. I am… sorry. It will not happen again. You have my word.”

Upon arriving back at camp, on the journey to their current position, and setting up the second camp, Thorin berated Bilbo for the smallest of trespasses. At one point, after Thorin yelled at him for the piddling amount of firewood he brought to the fire, he decided to give up and sit by himself.

Two figures came towards him. He felt his stomach drop. What mischief did they wish to cause now?

“We’re sorry.” Fili said. “We were trying to help you, honestly!”

“Help me! Help me with what?”

“Oh come Bilbo, don’t play daft.” Kili grinned, sitting beside him.

Bilbo blinked.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Our uncle likes you, we can tell.” Fili sat on his other side. “Why do you think he constantly berates you? If he dislikes someone, he usually ignores them completely.”

“Thank you, that is a comfort.” Bilbo did not bother to hide his sarcasm.

“Look, he can be a grouchy ol’ dwarf. Believe us, we know more than anyone. But there is another side. You’ve clearly seen it.”

“Of course he has, Kili. No one could possibly find the grumpy, berating Thorin attractive!”

“Attractive?” Bilbo balked. “I certainly do not-“

He felt his face grow hot. Fili and Kili grinned at each other. Bilbo now felt as though his face was positively aflame.

“Word of advice.” Fili leant in closer. “Take it slow. And don’t be too obvious in your feelings. Our uncle has been known to attack any suitors who are too amorous in declaring their feelings.”

Bilbo felt an odd queasiness fill his stomach. _Attack suitors?_

“And if you harm him, in anyway.” Kili leant in closer. “You will feel the sharp point of my arrow.”

Bilbo looked down to one of Kili’s arrows pointed at his crotch. He instantly understood the implication.

“I wouldn’t…” He felt a little lightheaded. “You need not worry about that…”

Kili smiled and put his arrow away. “Of course.”

###

Upon arrival in Rivendell, Bilbo felt overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of its beauty. Everything, from the architecture to the gardens and scenery around it, to the very elves themselves, attained such a level of perfection that Bilbo initially felt his eyes tear at the sight.

After merely a few hours, however, the sheer sameness of the splendor was losing its magic. After Elrond had perused Thorin’s map, revealing its secrets by moonlight, he had excused himself to talk to Gandalf alone. Thorin and Bilbo joined the other dwarves, in the main hall. He now stepped out onto the balcony, leaving the dwarves to openly carouse and drink with the elves behind him.

What was beauty, anyway? Sure, the elves had silky, shiny hair and smooth skin.

Another figure already stood before him. His dark hair was wild and tangled down his back. Rather than the slimness of the elves, he was broad and muscular beneath his noble furs. Thorin turned to face him. His eyes, in such sharp contrast to his dark beard, were surely as blue as the Arkenstone, itself.

Yes, dwarves could be beautiful, but in a different way to the elves. Theirs was a more untamed beauty, which, to Bilbo, made them all the more alluring.

Both stared at each other a long moment.

“Is there something you want, hobbit?”

“I… er…” That frustrated feeling of incompetence while around the prince was coming up again. This was ridiculous! He was a fully-grown hobbit!

Thorin continued to stare at him, his expression ambiguous.

“Bilbo. My name is Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.”

“Is there something you want, Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins?”

“Actually, I just came out here to get some fresh air. A little constrictive in there.” He moved to stand beside Thorin, looking out to the green landscape beyond.

“Ah so there’s another who isn’t so captivated by elves.”

“I don’t think Kili or Fili much care for elves.” Their attention is mostly on the other, Bilbo didn’t add.

“They’re good dwarves.” Thorin’s face lit up into a smile.

“Yes, at times…”

“You challenge me over my own nephews? You are, indeed, a brave hobbit, Bilbo Baggins… at times.” Thorin looked at him now with an odd twinkle in his eyes, almost curiously reminiscent of Gandalf.

Bilbo felt his heart start to race. “I have many qualities. In time, you’ll see them all.”

Something shifted between them. Bilbo felt it as palpable as the very air around them, the very blue of Thorin’s eyes.

Thorin opened his mouth, as though to say more, when a voice sounded behind them.

“Ah, the great Thorin Oakensheild.”

Bilbo and Thorin turned, to two dark haired elves now on the balcony. Bilbo instantly recognized  them to be Elrond’s sons, introduced to the dwarves as they sat down to their initial feast.

“We have been hoping that you would spare us some of your time.” The taller, Elladan said.

“However, it seems you shy away from the company of elves.” Elrohir said. Both moved forward, looking directly at Thorin without sparing a single glance at Bilbo. He felt the prince stiffen beside him.

“I would rather feast with stinking trolls that spend company with you.” Thorin roared.

“Why be so unpleasant? We have heard of your great beauty and wished to see it. Indeed, as dwarves go, you are, indeed, kingly.” Both inched closer to Thorin. Bilbo noticed that he appeared to be subtly shrinking away from them, towards the balcony. He remembered what Kili said about Thorin harming ones who would proposition him and felt his own body start to move to the side. If there was to be bloodshed, he did not wish to be part of it.

It was as though Bilbo wasn’t there. Elladan literally knocked past him to reach up to Thorin, entangling a hand in his hair. Bilbo felt his stomach do little flip-flops. Something was wrong. Rather than aggressively defend himself (as Bilbo expected he would) Thorin was now suddenly as still as one of the trolls turned to stone by sunlight. His eyes went eerily vacant.

“Join us, great king. We would have just one night of passion with you.”

“Well, now. This just isn’t-“ Bilbo began.

An almighty roar erupted from Thorin and he brought his sword up to Elladan’s throat. “You dare _touch_ me!”

“Come now, Thorin.” Elrohir laughed. “We only wish to-“

With some force, Thorin pushed the elf away from him. “Come, Bilbo. We are leaving this dreadful place, once and for all.” Sheathing his sword, he stormed back into the great hall behind them.

Bilbo stood, despondent a moment. Behind him, Elladan and Elrohir laughed.

Rivendell was a place of beauty beyond all compare.

But his place was with the dwarves. With Thorin.

“How could you treat a king-to-be with such disrespect?” He spat at the twins.

“Disrespect? It was he who was disrespectful to us! I would expect more gratitude, in the future. It is not often that an elf would make such an offer to a dwarf.” Elrohir said.

Fuming, Bilbo told them exactly what he thought about their offer. Or, more precisely, what they could do with it. He received quite the satisfaction at the shock on the brother’s faces.

_To think these are Elrond’s kin!_

He turned and stormed back into the hall, after Thorin, willing to follow him to wherever he would lead.

 

Tbc…


	3. The Ghastliness of Honour Part 3

When the wounded Thorin berated him-once again- only this time for _saving his life_ , Bilbo decided to walk away from the entire situation. He would take the long journey back to Hobbiton, where he wasn’t almost squashed by giant rock monsters, where there weren’t creepy creatures he had to play riddles with to cease from being eaten, where he actually felt appreciated and needed.

Mostly, where Thorin didn’t chide him for stopping a foul goblin from chopping off his head! Certainly, the prince had been difficult to be around, of late. The harassment from the Rivendell elves had put the prince in a constant ill mood. Even Kili and Fili were not exempt from his temper.

Standing on the mountaintop, feeling the icy wind sting his face, Bilbo could only stand, humiliated, as the dwarf yelled at him.

_But I saved your life! And almost died in the process myself!_

Then Thorin enacted a move so startling that Bilbo felt initially too shocked to respond. Thorin demonstrated his constant ability to throw Bilbo off guard by pulling him into an almost painful embrace.

"I have never been so wrong in my life!"

The prince now lay, protected, in a crevice, just at the base of the mountain the eagles had set them on, recovering from the injuries inflicted by Azog. The party could not venture further until their leader was well enough to travel. There was now a somber silence to the dwarves, broken up by the occasional whisper. Bilbo found himself longing for the roughhousing of Kili and Fili, or the cheeky songs of Bofur. They sat at the entrance to where Thorin lay, a small fire providing little warmth. Gandalf stood a little to the back, a pipe to his mouth.

Bilbo could no longer bare the tense atmosphere. He silently made his way into the cave, intending to check on Thorin’s progress, with burning hope they would be moving again soon.

“How goes he?” He asked Oin, who crouched a little away from where the dwarf lay, bundled in his furs. Oin appeared to be mixing herbs into a large bowl.

“Recovering well.”

“I will be fine!” Thorin grumbled. Bilbo ventured forward to stand before him. To the hobbit, he still appeared rather pale. “We should make haste to the Lonely Mountain soon!”

Bilbo glanced at Oin, who smiled, and shook his head a little. He recalled Thorin taking on Azog, wielding a branch as a shield, his movement steady, his back erect. He was truly a warrior, in that moment, a warrior who would be a king.

“Glad to see you looking better.” Bilbo said.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would be looking a lot worse.”

There was a momentary awkward silence. Bilbo rushed to fill it.

“Yes, well that goblin isn’t very nice.” He inwardly winced at the blatancy of his sentence and prepared himself for the inevitable teasing from Thorin. Instead, the prince appeared thoughtful.

“He is called Azog ‘The Defiler’. Had you not rushed at him... at least I would not have been alive to be aware of the horror of his brutality.” He noticeably flinched.

Bilbo could not repress a gasp. Horror momentarily trembled his frame.

_That is truly sickening!_

The horror swiftly turned to fury.

“Here, drink this.” Oin said, his voice gentle. Even so, as he neared Thorin, bringing the drink to his lips, the prince flinched once more.

“He will not touch you while I’m around.” Bilbo said, as Thorin began to swallow the potion. He started to laugh, then choke. Oin patted him on the back, until he recovered.

“I feel much relieved to have such an esteemed protector.” There was no doubting the sarcastic tone.

Bilbo shook his head, and moved to leave, inwardly cursing the dwarf’s unique ability to say the exact words to wound him.

“Tell me about Hobbiton, Bilbo.” Thorin said, in a more placating tone.

Bilbo turned back to face him. He looked to Oin, who winked back.

“It does look to be a rather charming place.”

So Bilbo talked about what was dearest to his heart. He spoke of the rolling green meadows and clear creeks. He spoke of the simple hobbits and their simple pleasures of food and gardening.

“Yes, it is clear how much you miss it.” Thorin looked a little sad, perhaps thinking of his own lost home.

“And, when I return, I will certainly miss such a rich adventure.”

“Even with such ill tempered dwarves for company? Particularly one as ill tempered as myself?”

“Oh you’re not too bad…” Bilbo only half lied.

Thorin’s lips pulled up into a half smile.

###

“So, it is the Took side that Gandalf was referring to. They were always the ones that thirsted for adventure.” Bilbo said.

It was two days later and Thorin had almost fully recovered. Bilbo had spent a lot of that time talking to the prince, while Oin gave him all manner of herbs to drink. At the present time, Oin had gone out to join the others, for which Bilbo was secretly pleased.

“And of women hobbits?” Thorin asked, piercing Bilbo with his intense stare.

“What of women hobbits?”

“You wear no ring.”

Bilbo’s hand went automatically for his pocket, checking where the little golden trinket resided.

“No, there has been no female hobbit in my life, for a very long time. Nor, have any relationships lasted for a very long time… Same goes for any male hobbit.” He tried not to sound hopeful.

“I have noted that different cultures have different principles, when it comes to love. In dwarf culture, it is acceptable for ones of the same gender to love, it is even acceptable for relations to love, as Kili and Fili do.”

Bilbo felt his heart thud, his mouth go dry. This wasn’t Thorin, the would-be King… surely this wasn’t him…suggesting…?

_No. He is simply asking out of curiosity. Do not delude yourself, Bilbo._

“In hobbit culture, it is more than acceptable for male hobbits to marry, as with female hobbits to marry.”

“I see.” Thorin continued to stare at him. Bilbo felt something veritably zap across to him from Thorin’s intense gaze, an unnamed yet powerful emotion that quickened his breath, sent a frission of desire down his spine.

_Oh my. I’m in trouble._

When Thorin moved, it was with such quickness that Bilbo barely had time to react. Suddenly, the king was out of bed and grabbing him around the neck, pulling him close to him and mashing his lips against Bilbo’s own. Bilbo gasped, allowing Thorin to shove his tongue into his mouth. Bilbo’s face already stung from the prince’s facial hair but, at that point, he didn’t care. Moaning, he tangled his tongue with Thorin’s tugging desperately at his hair, as he pressed against him, unconsciously rubbing his hardness against his thigh.

It took him more than a moment to realise that Thorin had ceased moving. In fact, the prince stood, frozen in position, his hands now at his sides, his tongue pulled back from Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo pulled his tongue out and started to kiss down his neck, marveling at the coarseness of the stubble under his lips. Every hobbit he had ever kissed- male or female- had soft, hairless flesh. But this, he moaned, this was desire. This was beauty. He bit down softly into the neck-

-And suddenly found himself lifted and thrown through the air. He hit the side of the cave, smacking his head with such force, he momentarily felt himself black out. When he came too a very angry looking Thorin stood before him.

“How dare you touch me in such a fashion!”

Bilbo blinked. What had just happened?

“You think I am just a vessel to pour your sickened lust into?”

“I don’t understand-“

“Oh I understand. I understand very well. I would cut off your head, hobbit, before I let you harm me in such an insidious fashion!”

_What? I don’t-_

“You’re the one who jumped on me!”

“What is going on here?” Oin reappeared behind them.

“Leave me!” Thorin yelled at Bilbo.

“But I-“

“I said go!”

Unable to clear his muddled head, Bilbo swiftly left the enraged prince.

###

After much jibing from Kili and Fili about his reddened jaw and mouth, Bilbo sat down by himself, to sort through his thoughts. At the forefront was puzzlement as to what had just happened.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked across to Gandalf. The wizard betrayed no emotion. Even so, Bilbo had the distinct impression that Gandalf somehow knew what had just happened. He contemplated talking to him, but then decided against it. What could Gandalf possibly say to make him feel any better?

He considered his options.

Perhaps the best thing to do was to leave. He was more than tired of Thorin’s irrational behaviour.

No, he had promised to stay. Honour dictated that he not go back on his word. He would simply ignore the sullen dwarf. Yes, that would be the best idea.

He was brooding so intensely that it wasn’t until Oin was right up in front of him that he even noticed that he was there.

“Thorin tells me you banged your head.” Oin said.

_No, he threw me against the cave wall Why doesn’t he tell you the truth?_

“Well, any nausea? Headache?” Oin continued, clearly ignoring Bilbo’s glare.

“No.”

“Did you black out at all?”

“For a moment, yes.”

“Hm…” Oin looked him over, carefully, paying special attention to his head. “There is a slight abrasion there. Drink this potion. If you begin to feel very tired, for no reason, please come to me straight away.” Bilbo nodded, taking the potion off him. “Thorin told me to say he apologizes for his rough treatment of you.”

_Oh… so maybe he did tell him._

“Thank you.” He gulped the potion, not looking Oin in the eye, in the hopes he would leave.

The dwarf did, indeed, leave, only to be replaced by a second one, Balin.

“Ah, I see what Kili and Fili are talking about.” He pointed at Bilbo’s face and chuckled.

“I would prefer to be left alone.”

 _Of course! Come, sit down!_ Bilbo thought, as Balin sat beside him, leaning in close. “Oin tells me that Thorin threw you into the cave wall. I do not condone that behaviour.”

_Well, I wasn’t exactly pleased!_

“I am too wise to not recognize what is happening here. I do not know you well, Bilbo, but I feel I know you enough to think that any potential passion would be initiated by Thorin, himself.”

Bilbo felt his face go red in other areas than where Thorin kissed him.

“I would rather not discuss it.”

“Fine, then I will discuss it. Thorin initiated a passionate interlude. You responded, with equal passion and he threw you across the cave.”

Bilbo folded his arms.

“Thorin is…” He appeared to contemplate his words carefully. “I feel that you and Thorin are a good match. However, he is unused to this kind of… situation.”

“As I said, I would rather-“

“I say this because I like you, laddie. There was a great hurt in Thorin’s past. He has not had any suitors since.”

Bilbo thought back to the conversation between Balin and Gandalf, back at the Shire.

“He is fearful and defensive. It has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

_Not take it personally?! How can I not take it personally, when I’m the one being thrown across the cave? And then accused of the vilest deeds?_

Bilbo suddenly felt a cold ice clamp his stomach.

_The vilest deeds…_

Thorin had talked earlier about Azog the defiler. He had heard of such repulses, but they were so far from his simple, untarnished life at the Shire that he had quickly banished the stories from his mind.

One by one, the thoughts started to germinate, then join in his mind, as the buckner weeds back at the Shire would interlock in the winter, destroying his vegetable patch.

Thorin’s determination to keep his nephews safe from men, in particular, in the prince’s own words, from their ‘vile lusts’.

Thorin’s repulsion at being touched by Elladan and Elrohir, which then turned to rage.

Thorin’s flinch when talking about Azog’s would be defilement of his body.

In fact, the more the thought of it, there were other signs throughout the journey. They were subtler, but they were there.

Thorin deliberately standing away from the others, at almost all times.

Thorin stiffening at every touch that wasn’t initiated by himself.

“Oh my I feel sick.”

He could no longer deny the obvious.

At some point in the past, Thorin had been violated.

And Bilbo had just-

He clutched at his stomach, which heaved, as though he would physically throw up.

“Excuse me!”

He rushed back to the cave, almost tripping over Bofur, playing on his flute.

“Bilbo, are you-?” The dwarf began, but Bilbo ignored him. He had to get to Thorin, to explain his actions.

“Thorin!” He shouted. Oin, who had his back to the hobbit, jumped.

“My, my Bilbo. You scared me!”

Thorin, himself, sat on his furs, his long hair covering his face.

“I’ll… see what’s happening outside.” Oin seemed in a sudden rush to leave.

_What have I done?_

“I… I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I am truly sorry.” Bilbo could not undo the knot in his stomach.

“You were right. I did initiate.”

“Even so… it has been a long time since I…. And you are incredibly beautiful… I got carried away. I am so…” He closed his eyes. “I will not touch you again. I will not initiate anything that you don’t want.”

Thorin finally looked up. Once again, Bilbo was subject to his intense gaze. He stood up, placing a hand in Bilbo’s hair, tenderly stroking the curls. A suddenly trembling Bilbo withstood leaning into the touch.

_Oh my… oh…oh my…_

“You constantly surprise me, Bilbo Baggins.”

All coherent thought then left Bilbo’s mind as Thorin leant forward and kissed him softly on the lips. Bilbo resisted the strong urge to grab the dwarf to him, ravish his mouth.

“It seems I am constantly wrong in my perception of you. Certainly, silly of me to think that one of your stature could harm me. But then, you certainly proved your ferociousness in your attack of Azog.”

Bilbo risked putting up a hand to softly glide his fingers in Thorin’s hair. It was surprisingly soft.

“You have nothing to fear from me.” Bilbo found it incredibly odd that he, a hobbit, would be saying such a thing to one of the bravest, most noble ferocious leader of the dwarves.

This time, when Thorin leant down to kiss him, he entangled Bilbo’s tongue with his own. His trembling increasing (much to his consternation) Bilbo responded with his tongue alone. Thorin suddenly withdrew, with such force that Bilbo stumbled back a little.

“Come, Bilbo. I feel I have strength enough now to join the others.”

Still feeling rather lightheaded Bilbo stumbled out of the cave after him, where Kili and Fili rushed into their uncle's arms.

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have reviewed and sent kudos!
> 
> Warning: next chapter will include a flashback to Thorin’s violation (fulfilling a specific kinkmeme prompt). If you’re icky with that kinda thing, I’d suggest skipping it to chapter 5.


	4. The Ghastliness of Honour Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violent, humiliating rape and abuse (as well as extreme dwarf prejudice) in this chapter, fulfilling kinkmeme prompt:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=810174  
> If you want to go straight to the prompt fill, just scroll down to the sentence ‘They reached the gate by nightfall’.  
> This chapter has been very hard to write. I don’t think it’s my best writing (I’m off my game, writingwise, this week), so apologies.

Bilbo rolled over, covering his ears with the rather warm blanket provided for him, in the dim hope it would diminish the guttural sounds coming from Bifur’s larynx. Indeed, to his precious hobbit ears, it sounded as though ten trolls were having a large, raucous party in the adjoining room.

_Doesn’t this irritate any of the others?_

The troll-party-snores continued. Bilbo shoved the blanket down and clambered out of the bed, crossing the room to the door. Once opened, other sounds in the house took precedence. Now, he could hear the other dwarves, packed together into the rooms around him. The dimmer snores and grunts of the others instantly answered his question. He should have known. Experience told him that dwarves could sleep through anything.

Bilbo closed the door and climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket over his head once more, and wishing that the intended user of the bed would come into the room.

Kili and Fili had snuck out from the wood cabin earlier in the night. This left Thorin, Balin and Dwalin (as well as Gandalf) to converse with Beorn. All five now sat around the dining table further to the front of the cabin, in quiet conversation as to strategy.

They had run into the giant not far out of the Misty Mountains. The rather astonished Bilbo had never seen such a being. His hair was long, black and more tangled than even Thorin’s, his beard almost as long as Gandalf’s. Bilbo only came up to his thighs, such was his height. His legs and arms were as thick as tree trunks, his chest a veritable barrel.

Initial jitters upon seeing one of such mammoth size soon dissolved, when it became apparent that he was a kind and gentle soul. Almost immediately, upon recognizing their fatigue and hunger, Beorn had invited them to his house. They had been in his cabin a few days now, resting up, as Thorin, Balin and Gandalf planned their next move.

A door slammed and heavy boots treaded down the hall. Bilbo instantly recognized Thorin’s sturdy gait. He could hear his heart start to pound so loud in his chest, he was certain even Bifur would be awoken by it.

In the past few days, while the prince did not deny that Bilbo was his lover, he did not openly display his affections, either. Though he would occasionally touch Bilbo’s hand or hair, he would wait until they were in private company to truly show his passion.

Indeed, as soon as he closed the door to the room, he pulled Bilbo to him, kissing him soundly on the mouth. For his part, Bilbo was reticent to fully reciprocate. He longed nothing more than to utterly ravish the prince, to kiss every part of the dusky flesh.

However, his intellect took over. One did not need to be wise, like Gandalf, to know not to push one who had been… shamed.

_I will not hurt him._

Thorin broke the kiss, and favoured him with a tired looking smile as he roughly stroked his hair, before moving to the bed.

“I am exhausted.” The prince lay down, not bothering to pull the sheets over himself.

Bilbo simply stood a moment, the obvious proof of his passion still clearly on display. Indeed, Thorin’s attentions always ignited a flame in him that culminated in the one area. More than once, as the prince slept, Bilbo had to take care of the problem using his own hand.

“Yes.” Bilbo clamped down on his frustration.

_What is wrong with me?_

He thought of the Great Goblin King, in an attempt to dissolve his lust, as he climbed into the bed, under the blanket.

“We will make leave tomorrow. There is a secret elf path that runs east-west through Mirkwood. Beorn believes that my plan to cross the Forest Road is perilous. Perhaps this is true.” Thorin said.

Bilbo squirmed. Thinking of the Goblin King wasn’t helping. A faint musk came off Thorin’s flesh, only detectable in the close proximity. No, _that certainly_ wasn’t helping.

He reached forward and placed his hand in Thorin’s hair, risked leaning forward to kiss him on the lips.

“We should rest.” Thorin said, gently.

Bilbo slammed his teeth together painfully, to cease from saying something he’d later regret.

“Where are Kili and Fili?” Thorin asked.

“Where do you think?”

Thorin was quiet for so long that Bilbo thought he had fallen asleep.

“It is a mark of their love that one would offer his body to the other, to suffer such acute pain for the other’s pleasure.”

It took a moment for Bilbo to figure out what he was talking about. Then the understanding came to him. He could almost physically feel it, like a deep wound to the stomach.

_Oh Thorin…_

In terms of lovemaking with male hobbits (and it had only been with hobbits), Bilbo had both given and received, and had found both immensely pleasurable. Even his first time, though uncomfortable, was not the kind of ‘acute pain’ that now Thorin spoke of.

However, Bilbo’s partners had always been gentle, concerned for the hobbit’s pleasure, as well as their own.

They did not take without permission.

Bilbo spoke his words with great care. “If one is gentle and careful, it does not have to be painful. It can feel wonderful.”

Though Thorin was silent, in the dim light, Bilbo could still sense the intense gaze upon him.

“Not that I am at all advocating… I am perfectly fine with things the way they are.” He reached out to touch Thorin’s intricately embroidered cloak. “To think, that I get to sleep in the same bed as the great dwarf prince.”

His hand delved into the rich dark hair. Thorin’s own hand came up to clasp Bilbo’s.

“If it was in me, I would give you more.” He paused. “I’d give them all more.”

“You have already given them so much.”

“It isn’t enough. A raggard race of listless wanderers. That is how we are seen. I will prove that we are more! We are noble and proud. You should have seen the great town of Dale. We dwarves have great skills in craftsmanship. It’s beauty surpassed that of Rivendell, indeed, anything the elves could create.Even Thrandruil payed homage.”

Bilbo gripped his hand tighter.

“When you defeat Smaug and return your homeland, then I will see the great city rebuilt.”

“Yes.” Thorin gently kissed him on the chin. “Yes, you will.”

###

Bilbo’s breathing became deeper and slower, as he succumbed to sleep. Thorin risked reaching out to twist a tiny curl of hair around his finger.

A long time ago, he told himself that he would not allow another dwarf, or being, for that matter, into his bed. Though he had many offers, in the intervening years, he had always adhered to that promise.

Of all creatures, this tiny thing… this hobbit, endeared him like no other had. The cherubic smooth face and wide eyed, yet mature face created an almost painful yearning unlike he had ever felt. Always, when alone with Bilbo, he longed to kiss and bite at the smooth flesh, to ravish the hobbit with such thoroughness that both lay panting and breathless, unable to move from exhaustion.

Indeed, many years before, he would occasionally initiate a passionate interlude. Be it either male dwarf, female dwarf, or even the occasional male or female elf, he could bring them to such a height of ecstasy that they would cry out his name.

However, as to what Bilbo spoke of…

In all of those encounters with male partners, he never expressed the desire to take them in such a fashion. He could bring them to ecstasy in other ways.

_To cause such pain to another, for one’s own pleasure._

Thorin closed his eyes, as though the darkness would be sufficient to halt the unwelcome memories from rushing back.

***  
They reached the gate by nightfall, weary with hunger and fatigue. Many of the little ones and infirmed were so ill from travel that they could not travel the final day, leaving only a dozen or so, including Thorin, Dwalin and Balin to continue forward, in the dim hope of finding a town in which they could replenish their food and medicine.

When they finally spied the wall at the base of the mountain, in the distance, Thorin thought his eyes were betraying him. Mirage or not, his fevered heart pounded faster, excelling his weary muscles to greater levels of work. The wall was double the dwarves’ size in height and appeared to be made of crude logs. Lengthwise it covered the entire base of the mountain. A few thatched roofs behind concreted the reality that this was, indeed, a town.

The crudely cut door’s distinct lack of workmanship caused many of the dwarves to smirk. Thorin raised his fist and pounded loudly three times on the rough wood. Moments later, the door creaked open, a wrinkled face peering through.

“Who goes here?”

Thorin affixed his lips into what he hoped looked like a winning smile.

“Are you… dwarves?”

Thorin did not miss the spiteful tone.

 _Do not lose your temper_ , he told himself.

“We have traveled for many days. There are women and children with us. We are in need of food and medicine. If you are hospitable with us we will-“

The door suddenly slammed shut.

For a moment, no one in the bewildered group spoke.

“There is an ill feel to this.” Dwalin said. “We should leave.”

“There is nowhere else to go!” Thorin banged on the door again, this time with such force that his knuckles bruised.

“The men of the mountain are known for their dislike of dwarves.” Dwalin said.

“I have heard of no such rumours.” Thorin insisted.

The door creaked open a little, the old face looking out once more. “The mayor is willing to negotiate.”

The three closest, Thorin, Dwalin and Balin surged forward.

“Just you!” The woman insisted, pointing at Thorin.  
“Very well then.” He shrugged off Dwalin’s halting hand on his arm.

“The negotiations may take a while. I suggest you don’t dawdle by the gate.” The woman said to the others, as she opened the gate further to allow Thorin in.

He nodded back at the others and stepped into the village beyond.

In years hence, when Thorin stepped inside Hobbiton, he became instantly aware of its striking beauty. Indeed, the bright green grass on rolling hills, the well tended gardens sporting colourful flowers, the sparse, sturdy trees, even the simple, round houses, created a simple splendor that not even Rivendell, with all of the elves’ craftsmanship, could emulate.

Just as Hobbiton, in years to come, would be the most beautiful he had encountered (after Dale, certainly), this tiny village, at the base of the mountain, was but a blemish on the landscape surrounding it. It consisted of many thatched houses, piled together in haphazard fashion along a wide muddy road. The tallest of which stood at the end. This rather crooked structure towered well above the others, like an ill intentioned troll casting its beady eye on its prey. There were only a few inhabitants visible, all rugged up against the cold; their faces smeared with mud, a scowl on their visages, as they darted from one dwelling to another.

The woman rushed him to the building at the end and bade him to come inside. Thorin stepped into a room, hiding any visible sign of distaste. The interior was in keeping with the outside. In years to come, he would step into Bilbo’s house at Bag End and be inwardly warmed by the round entrances, simple, yet elegant furniture and all-round homely feel. This interior, by contrast, was all sharp corners and large, ungainly furniture. A fireplace added warmth to the room, but a dismal grey metal frame barred any sight of the mesmerizing flames

A man stood in the centre of the room. He stood a good foot taller than Thorin and was about three times as wide. His clothes consisted of a simple shirt and trousers, which he had overlain with many necklaces. Every finger bore a ring of obvious sparkle and value. His hair may have, at one time, been as thick and long as Thorin’s. Now it was merely a wisp, brushed to one side on top of his head. His eyes, small and dark, appeared to be studying Thorin intently.

“So, this is Thorin Oakenshield, Prince of the dwarves. I am Mayor Raynar.”

Thorin bowed his head, in deference.

“And you’ve come here to seek shelter and food, is that true?”

Again, Thorin made to speak but Raynar cut him off.

“Answer me, dwarf, why would I give shelter and food to ones as yourselves? I look at you, and I don’t see a proud and noble race, I see vermin. Pathetic creatures that wander from land to land, scavenging from those who actually work for their comforts.”

_Vermin? Despicable disgusting vermin of a man yourself!_

Thorin swallowed and clenched his fists. With great effort, he forced his lips up into a smile.

“We will happily work for our food and shelter for the next week. We have many skills. If you need us to hunt for game, that we can do. We are incredibly skilled at building. We-“

“And you, prince?” the man started to slowly walk around him. “What are your skills?”

“I can hunt game, I can-“

Thorin flinched at the voice suddenly at his ear. “Another thing about dwarves. You are all notoriously ugly.”

_You are not exactly ethereal yourself!_

Thorin bristled.

“But for you. Why…” He came around to the front and lifted up Thorn’s hair, allowing it to drop back down. Thorin clenched his fists so tight that his fingernails dug painfully into his palms. “In human terms, you are actually rather handsome, which means in dwarf terms, you must be otherworldly.” He laughed at his own joke.

“We have dwarf children that are very sick. We just need one week to rest, then we will move on.”

Raynar stared at him intently a moment. Thorin stared back, determined not to back down.

“Certainly, I will accede to your request. I will tell the others they can come into the village right now. They will be provided with warmth, shelter and food, as well as medical supplies.”

Thorin inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

“On one condition.” Thorin jolted at the hand suddenly trailing down his arm. “You consent to being my consort for the night.”

Thorin suddenly felt as though he was falling, yet he had not moved.

“How dare you make such a request of me? I am royalty! I am-“

“Fine.” The man turned away. “Get out of my town. Better luck elsewhere.”

Thorin stood a moment, considering his options. What did it matter, really? He had bedded men before. It would not be pleasant, certainly. He could lie and let the man kiss and stroke him to his pleasurable end, then, when the man was asleep and content, he would leave.

What really was the other option? This was the first village they’d discovered in days. Many of the children could not last much longer.

 _Let this mayor have his sickened fancies. At least the little ones_ _will live._

“I agree.” Thorin said, as he started shrugging out of his furs. If this deed was to be done, he wanted it over with as quickly as possible.

For a moment, something came into the dark brown eyes, a kind of relish, almost equal to the look Smaug had, before casting his first incendiary breath onto his beloved town.

Thorin deliberately blanked his mind, as he continued to strip. He would not consider what the ramifications of his decision would be, nor questions of pride or nobility. If his people were to live, then he had no choice in the matter.

Mayor Raynar disappeared a moment. Thorin could hear him talking softly to the woman, in the front of the building. From what he could hear, the Mayor at least would not go back on his word. When he came back into the room, Thorin had completely stripped.

“Ah yes, you are magnificent.” He walked around him once more, examining him. Thorin felt heat blush his cheeks and resisted the urge to cover his genitalia with his hands.

“The bedroom is to the back.” Mayor Raynor indicated for Thorin to follow. For a moment, he stood, frozen to the spot ( _I cannot… this is madness!)_ then, with bowed head, he moved down the short passage.

The small room ending the hall, consisted of a small desk covered with parchment and dripping ink, a washbasin and a cot with threadbare blanket. A simple wooden strutted headboard rested against the off white wall. Shackled to the headboard-

“No…” Thorin felt revulsion fill him at the sight. “Not like that-“ He started to back away.

“Where do you think you’re going, dwarf whore?”

The fist landed in his stomach before he had time to react. Thorin momentarily fell to his knees, but then was instantly up, fighting.

In the years to follow, when he awoke from yet another nightmare, or when Kili or Fili’s careless touch brought the horrific memories back, he would tell himself that he fought. He fought more than he’d fought anything, even Smaug. At least fighting Smaug, he had dignity and honour. But this… naked and fighting a man attempting to blackmail him into participating in carnal desires he wanted no part in… this was humiliation, this was an indignity of such a low, he could barely think of himself as dwarf, much less prince.

He managed to glance his fists off the man’s face, causing him to howl with rage. Raynar lifted him and threw him across the room. He landed on the bed and slammed his head so hard into the headboard that he felt tearing pain through the top of his skull. Then Raynar was on him, his knees pinning his legs, his immense girth on his stomach.

Thorin was strong and tall, for a dwarf. Furthermore, he had fought much taller, stronger opponents and come out the victor. But here, on a tiny, creaking bed, with Raynor using his bigger weight and strength to overcome him, Thorin had never felt so small.

“You want to fight me, dwarf? I like a fight!” Raynar grabbed his arms and pulled them up over his head, easily fixing the manacles to them. Even in the knowledge, at this point, that it was useless, Thorin continued to struggle. He spat at the man now taking off his own clothes and jewellery with such haste that the cloth tore. Raynar seemed to not even notice the saliva dripping off his face; such was his zealous to force the dwarf prince.

“Look at you, dwarf!” The mayor grabbed his legs and tore them apart. “You are nothing!”

Thorin felt him jab wildly at his opening and cried out in disgust, ferociously twisting and turning his body, feeling his wrists bleed where the manacles cut into them.

“Just a whore of the most despised race in all of middle earth.”

Then pain. Pain unlike he had ever felt. No wound in battle, not even the time he was sliced deeply in his leg and almost bled out, could surpass the agonized stinging, centred on one area of his body. He cried out once more, in disgust and rage, as Raynar started to move, fast and hard, deliberately violent to cause as much harm as possible. Thorin continued to struggle but he was beginning to weaken. Finally, he could struggle no more. This was the worst of it. Finally admitting defeat. His pride and dignity crumbled under the knowledge that he had no choice but to accept the painful movement within him, the bruising hands on his hips and teeth digging into his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how long the torture lasted. It seemed an eternity of horror and intense, overwhelming shame. Finally, he felt a sickened warmth within him, and Raynar collapsed on top of him.

“If the prince is such a good whore, I can only imagine what the other dwarves must be like.” He laughed. Feeling his face move close, Thorin moved his head to the side. He froze, as Raynar kissed his cheek, then withdrew, causing Thorin to flinch. The dwarf prince drew his legs up, in a feeble attempt to make himself as small as possible. He could feel his own blood on his thighs and wondered vaguely if it was possible to bleed to death from such a horror. If he did, it would almost be welcome. At least then he would not have to confront his people, having lost all of the attributes that made him princely; pride, dignity, a royal bearing.

He could hear splashing water as Raynar used the washbasin to cleanse himself. No such relief for him. He was forced to lie in his own filth. Clearly, this was a deliberate move on Raynar’s part to prolong his degradation.

_Despicable, sickening man!_

 He risked looking up, to see what Raynar was now doing. The mayor sat down at the small desk by the bed, and took out a quill. For a while, Thorin could only hear the sound of sharp scratching. He felt himself start to shake, tears blurring his eyes.

_No no no no!_

He would not succumb! He would refuse.

A creeking sound signaled the door opening. Thorin looked up once more, to see the woman come in, a plate of fruit in her hands. She seemed to be deliberately not looking in his direction.

 “Ah yes, put it down on the desk.”

Thorin buried his face in his upper arm. This time, the tears spilt. That a mere servant had seen the great prince so despoilt. Clearly, Raynar wanted to prove to him that he was nothing.

Not prince. Not of the Oakenshield line of warriors. Simply a vessel for this man’s lusts.

_This wouldn’t have happened. If Smaug hadn’t destroyed Dale._

He felt the despair leave, to be replaced by welcome venomous anger.

_And if Thrandruil hadn’t abandoned us. We could have surely destroyed Smaug together! We are not a race of pathetic vermin! We deserve to have a home!_

The scribbling ceased.

“Ready for more, whore?”

_We deserve to have a home._

This time, when Raynar came to him, he didn’t fight it.

###

In the morning, Raynar simply unmanacled him and told him where to rejoin his fellow dwarves, before leaving him alone in the room. That was all. No chiding, no request for a second night. It was as though they’d spent the night conversing and laughing.

At several points, in the evening, Thorin had considered the violence he would inflict, once Raynar freed him. But now, he simply felt too dazed to contemplate even touching the man. He simply wanted to get out of there, to find the nearest lake and repeatedly scrub his naked flesh of any taint of this horrendous night before. Even then, he knew that this dishonour went deeper than any mere water could wash off.

His clothes lay piled on a chair by the bed. He could not recall them being placed there. Much of the night was now a blur. The waiting was, in a way, the worst of it. When Raynar reached for him, he simply allowed his mind to switch off, to drift back to the Lonely Mountain, when his father was still with him, where his grandfather was still alive, and all was right and just in the land.

But when Raynar slept, or read, or wrote, his mind refused to go to that place. Instead, it was even more clear than it had ever been, the terror so sharp it was as though a knife cut the air between them. He was a prisoner to this waiting for the inevitable.

He wasn’t sure how many times Raynar defiled  him. At one point, Raynar forced the use of his mouth. Thorin had been in the same position more than a few times before. But in those times, he coveted the moans and groans of the one he was pleasuring. With Raynar, he simply worked mechanically, wanting to finish it as soon as possible, his cheeks burning with shame, as the mayor chided him for his ‘talent’.

Wincing, Thorin climbed off the bed and gingerly started to change into his clothes.

 _No one needs to know_ , he told himself. _I survived the worst of it. Best to move on and do good by my people._

###

To Balin, it was clear from the moment he stumbled out of the Mayor’s house, bruised and with an eerily vacant, yet wild-eyed expression.

Thorin had been very terribly hurt.

Only their leader continually denied this. They had simply talked, he insisted. The mayor had been very gracious, allowing him food and sleep. The bruises were accidental. Only, every time he told the story, it changed. Tiny details, such as what they ate, or the differing elements of the conversation, or how exactly he received the bruises on his face, were different with each retelling.

The second day in the village, Balin pulled Dwalin aside.

“I know.” Dwalin had said, before Balin even opened his mouth. He looked to the very pale looking Thorin with the kind of fury that Balin had only seen once, when Thorin was fighting the White Goblin.

Balin and Oin insisted to Thorin that he appeared ill. Thorin continually denied this. Along the interior mountain pass, merely a half-day journey from the village, Thorin stumbled, and then collapsed.

Oin took him away from the others, into a small alcove, to examine him. Balin and Dwalin followed.

“He has a fever.” Oin said.

Feeling as though he’d taken his own blade and shoved it deep into his stomach, Balin said the words he would give all Smaug’s gold to not say.

“You need to examine him all over.”

Oin looked at him pointedly.

“I fear the cause is… hidden under his furs.”

Dwalin let out a loud grunt of disgust.

“I will leave you be.”

Dwalin and Balin turned away from the circle of protective bushes where Thorin lay, and stood just outside. A few yards ahead, they could see many of the group looking back at them, white and quiet with anxiety for their leader.

After what seemed to be an eon, Oin came back out. His face told Balin all he needed to know.

“He has an infection. I have managed to stop the bleeding…”

Balin didn’t want to ask it. It couldn’t happen. Not to Thorin. Not their fearless leader.

“He was defiled, wasn’t he?” Dwalin asked.

Oin closed his eyes. “Never have I seen such violence.”

“Right.” Dwalin suddenly swung around and rushed out of the area.

Tbc…


	5. The Ghastliness of Honour Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting. Enjoy! Some sexytimes in this chapter. All Thorin’s pov.

“You cannot keep us locked in here!” Thorin’s voice was hoarse but he was determined to continue shouting until he received a response from the elves. Though he could not see the others, from the more colourful dwarven language he heard around him, they were as infuriated by their current situation as he was. “This is a poor way to treat your guests!”

He grabbed the bars holding him captive and gave them a great shake, letting all of his ferocity out in a powerful scream. A loud clanging, all around him, signaled that the other dwarves had also started doing the same.

_This situation is, indeed, preposterous!_

The spiders were the start of the mayhem. Hideous, aggressive creatures that were more difficult to take down than orcs. The dwarves had fought valiantly, in Thorin’s eye, but they were simply too outnumbered. After seeing Fili dragged down underfoot by one of the eight-legged beasts, Thorin had allowed aggression to overtake logic. He had started hacking and slashing at the creatures without thought to strategy. That proved to be his undoing.

He had awoken to find himself in his current predicament.

Thrandruil had visited the cells only once. The elf king had simply stood before his bars, staring at him with an ambiguous expression. Thorin’s temper, barely under the surface at the best of times, spilled over and he called Thrandruil every insult he could think of, even making a few up, for good measure.

Indeed, in his fury at the one who had betrayed him, he had started to shake all over. Thrandruil had noticed this and had only said one sentence, before leaving.

“None of you will be harmed here.”

After that, Thorin had collapsed on the tiny cot provided, feeling oddly numb.

_They will not harm us._

Thorin could not believe the word of a betrayer.

Had Thandruil’s men stayed and fought alongside the dwarves against Smaug…

_They have already harmed us._

Many died and became ill and infirmed in the many years of wandering.

Then there was the… other thing… the event that Thorin did not wish to think of.

If it weren’t for Thrandruil’s cowardice, Thorin would not have given up everything, his pride, even his own body, so that his people could have some extra medicine and food, for the journey forward.

_He cannot even acknowledge the pain his betrayal has caused!_

These thoughts brought him up from the bed, gave him the strength to continue resisting his elven oppressors.

“Come back and talk to us, Thrandruil, you coward!” Thorin now shouted.

Footsteps. Light. Too light, even for an elf. Thorin had not seen what had happened to Bilbo. He had simply assumed he was taken prisoner, like the rest of them.

_Oh my sweet one! Why must I always underestimate you?_

The hobbit stood before him. Thorin blinked. It was as though he’d suddenly appeared in mid air.

“Bilbo!” He whispered. In usual circumstances, he was glad to look upon the beloved face. Now, he had more reason to be so.

Bilbo came up to the bars, curling his hand around Thorin’s.

“I will get you out. I will get you all out.”  
###

Thorin tossed this way and that, slamming painfully against the sides of the barrel. He would have thought of a more appropriate way to rescue himself and his dwarf companions than this. In all his time as a prince, he did not consider that one day a hobbit would place him into a barrel and roll him down a river. It simply wasn’t… regal.

But then, why did it matter? It wasn’t as though he was regal, anyway. He had let go of that many years before, when he stripped for a mayor’s lusts.

There was a loud cracking sound as the barrel hit something hard and he found himself flung forward, the wood disintegrating around him. He skidded forward onto the riverbank, slamming his knee painfully into tiny stones.

Thorin jumped up, looking around himself. A few of the other dwarves were also climbing out of barrels. Bilbo had his arms around Gloin’s waist who appeared to be struggling, mightily with his.

Kili and Fili were already out of their barrels and helping others out.

“Kili! Fili!” Thorin rushed forward.

“Uncle, we-“

That was as far as they got, before Thorin leapt onto them, pulling them to his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He released them from the hug, then grabbed first Kili, then Fili, about the face, forcefully turning them this way and that, looking, (with his heart slamming painfully in his chest), for any bruises or cuts. “Did any of those stinking elves touch you?”

“We’re fine! We’re fine, uncle!” Both were looking at him with a peculiar expression.

 _They don’t know!_ Thorin thought, as he continued to look them over. _They don’t know what elves can do to captives. Two handsome young dwarves._

“Ah Thorin?” Bilbo sounded strangely meek.

“Honestly, uncle. The worst was the food.” Kili said.

“Oh it was terrible!” Fili agreed.

_They could be lying! They could be too shamed to admit._

“Thorin, it’s ok.” He felt, rather than saw, Bilbo beside him. “I was in and out, the days of your capture, as you know. The elves did not touch any of you.”

“Leave us!” Thorin demanded, swinging around to face Bilbo. “This is a private conversation between me and my nephews!”

Distinct hurt crossed the diminutive face but he did as Thorin bid. The dwarf prince clamped down on the guilt permeating his system and turned his attention back to his kin.

“There are some things…” He whispered. “Some things that you may not wish to tell me. Some things that may be too shameful to admit.”

Kili’s expression changed to one of confusion. Fili, on the other hand…

“I want you to tell me everything. There is not anything to be shamed of. If you have been hurt… in any way… please tell me.”

Again. Confusion, on Kili’s part.

Fili-

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was revulsion in Fili’s eyes, yet he was trying hard to mask it. Thorin felt an ugly feeling twist his stomach.

_No, not Fili._

Fili surprised him by reaching out and taking his hand, a gesture he had never enacted before.

“Bilbo is right. We have not been hurt. I know, uncle that you fear for us, at times. But no one, man or elf, has ever caused either of us ill.”

“You are certain?” Thorin asked.

“I am certain.” The revulsion in the pale eyes changed to deep melancholy. For a moment, Thorin could not place why. Then it came to him.

_The horror isn’t for him. It’s for me. He suspects the truth._

Thorin felt his face heat up.

_He must never know._

“Good. I am pleased.” He turned from his nephews, to the other dwarves, who appeared deeply entrenched in helping each other out of the barrels. Dwalin caught his eye and nodded.  
###

“Smaug will not know what hit him!” Dwalin laughed. Thorin joined him. It felt good, after so many days of imprisonment, to be free, with his people, under a star studded sky and talking of the soon to be defeat of the one who had caused them so much suffering. He reached over and clapped his friend hard on the back.

“There is one other item.” Balin said. “Lake Town.”

_Lake Town. A town of men._

“What of it?” Thorin asked, stiffening. He caught a look pass between Balin and Dwalin.

“It is the closest town to the Lonely Mountain. If Smaug were to extend his wrath-“ Balin began.

“We will destroy him before he has a chance to do anything-“

“I should hope so. Even so, if we should fail, Smaug will undoubtedly set out to destroy the town. I suggest we… visit, before going to the Lonely Mountain, extend our courtesy.”

“And why do that?” Thorin asked, coldly.

“It is fair to them to at least have some idea of our plans. Then, if Smaug attacks, they will have some defenses.”

“I do not think that is necessary.” Thorin said.

“But-“

He felt the ghostly touch of hands on his hips, digging in deep, bruising him, vile words in his ear, as this man, this disgusting sickened lesser being, took by force what Thorin had never previously given.

“I do not wish to visit that town of vile men!”

Again, a look passed between Dwalin and Balin.

Thorin suddenly felt very cold. He wrapped his furs closer to him.

To go to another town of men, to be party to their violent lusts… to subject Fili and Kili to such ruffiants. No, he would not go. He would refuse, this time. Thorin was no longer a desperate leader, willing to trade anything so that his people would live. He had a purpose now. Let Smaug destroy the town, if that was the dragon’s will.

He stood up and moved away from the group, momentarily catching Bilbo’s eye. The hobbit had not been involved in the conversation as to strategy, instead talking quietly to Bofur. The hobbit must have seen the look on Thorin’s face, for a frown quickly down turned his smile.

As Thorin stormed from the camp, he cursed Raynar, as he had countless times.

He reached the edge of the forest and looked to the rolling mountains beyond. It was still another good week before they would even reach the Lonely Mountain.

That dreadful night had occurred so long before. Why did it continue to be a part of every aspect of his life? It seemed to be the foundation for every decision.

Footsteps sounded behind him, too heavy to be Bilbo’s. He swung around, hand on the hilt of his sword, to Dwalin before him.

“Whatever your decision, I will support it.”

“The decision is made.” Thorin said, taking his hand off his sword.

Dwalin favoured him with an ambiguous expression.

“A long time ago… I failed you. I have always been to shamed to admit it, but it’s true.”

Thorin could barely contain a look of utmost astonishment. Of all the things for Dwalin to say, Thorin could not have possibly expected it to be this.

His fellow dwarf stepped forward, to stand beside him.

“I had heard… rumours… of the mayor of the town-“

Thorin suddenly felt his heart jolt, his stomach clench. “We should not talk-“

“That night, while we feasted with the men, they talked of him, said he had heard of your great dwarven beauty and wanted to see for himself.”

_No, stop. I can’t…_

“Please, Dwalin…”

“When I saw you… after that night…. I knew. Balin also suspected. After you collapsed in the mountains, Oin treated you. Then it was confirmed.”

Thorin suddenly felt as though Dwalin had grabbed his innards and squelched them around in his big rough hands.

_They know! They’ve always known!_

Great, shaking breaths turned him to look at Dwalin directly. Thorin could not help but inwardly gasp. Never, in all their friendship, had he ever seen Dwalin so much as produce a single tear.

Yet, here on this hilltop, Dwalin openly sobbed, tears and snot running down his face in such volumous amounts, it was as though he’d been saving up all the outwardly manifest sorrow for this one time.

“I’m so sorry, Thorin! I failed you! I should never have left you go in there alone. You… were never the same after that. It was as though a light had gone out in your eyes. When I found out what he’d done, I went back to the town.” The sobs ceased. Though the tears continued to run down his face, there was now a poisonous anger in his eyes. “I found that sickened man… and I drove my sword through the very weapon he had used to defile you with. Then I drew my sword through his heart.”

For a moment, Thorin was too shocked to answer. His friend, the bravest, most heroic dwarf he knew, had done this for him. Killed for him.

“I will not allow any man to touch you again. You can be certain of that.”

Thorin wasn’t sure how to respond. Dwalin knew of his greatest pain. And yet, he had spilt tears for him. He had vowed to protect him.

_I am blessed to have such a companion._

He reached forward and engulfed Dwalin in a tight hug, which Dwalin returned, wrapping his arms around him equally as tightly.

###

A little while later, Thorin and Dwalin returned to the campsite. No more was spoken between the friends. They had simply released from the embrace, then stared forward, to the place where they knew they would regain their honour. For his part, Thorin now felt very fatigued.

“We will go to the Lake Town.” He said to Balin, then without any further input into the conversation, walked across to sit down next to Bilbo.

“Oh shut up, I have a wonderful singing voice!” Bofur was saying. Bilbo laughed, then looked to Thorin. The cheeriness in his eyes instantly disappeared.

“Is everything alright?” He whispered, as the others continued to laugh and joke around them.

Thorin closed his eyes. “Is everything ever really alright?”

He could sense the hobbit still watching him.

“I love you.”

He opened his eyes. Well well this was a night for surprises.

“Sorry, that was… I’m sorry I said that…” Bilbo now blushed bright red.

“I…” He searched his feelings. Despite his pain, despite his fear, despite everything that man had taken from him… “The feeling is mutual.”

Bilbo’s entire face lit up in the most genuine smile that Thorin had ever seen. It occurred to him, in that moment, that the hobbit was, indeed, beautiful.

He leant in close to Bilbo. “Come with me,” he whispered.

As they left the area, he did not look in Gandalf’s direction to know that he was watching him. The wizard was a constant enigma. Thorin was not certain as to where Gandalf stood, in regards to the mission. On some days, he was clearly as determined as Thorin to find the Lonely Mountain and defeat Smaug. On others, he chose, instead, to converse with his pathetic elf friends.

_Elves…_

Thorin felt his stomach clench.

Though Elrond admittedly showed some restraint, in their dealings, Thorin still had yet to meet an elf that he didn’t want to instantly punch in the pristine pale face.

“Alright?”

Bilbo’s soft voice broke him from his dark thoughts. The thick green trees of the forest now ensconced them.

“Fine.” He forced himself to grin.

A giggle suddenly sounded from the bushes behind them, followed by a whisper.

Thorin did not need to hear any more to recognize the voice. He put a finger to his lips, signaling for Bilbo to not talk, then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the bushes.

After walking a good few moments, Bilbo spoke.

“Fili and Kili? You don’t care for them leaving the camp? Might that put them in potential danger?”

“They can take care of themselves out here.” He did not add that if they were in a populated area of elves and men, then that would be a different story.

Bilbo stopped walking, positioned himself so he was facing Thorin directly and then took his hand. “They weren’t touched. None of the other dwarves were touched. I saw it. The elves gave them food and water. That is all.”

He reached up and touched his face, sliding his fingers down Thorin’s cheek.

“Finally, we’re alone.”

Thorin took a deep, shuddering breath.

“You are a good leader. You care for your people. King Thorin, under the mountain.” And odd smile came over Bilbo’s face. “You will get worship. Allow me to worship you.”

Bilbo moved to his knees.

“Allow me.” He said, softly.

Thorin felt his heart start to thud wildly in his chest. He wanted this, certainly. But a part of him hesitated. He recalled the mayor’s cruel hands, tugging painfully, in an attempt to have him feel pleasure.

“You want it.” Raynar had said. “I know you do.”

“I want to.” Bilbo said. “Please…I want to make you feel good.” The hobbit’s hands shook, as they pulled apart Thorn’s furs, as they started to unlace his pants. It was subtle, but Thorin still caught it.

This is Bilbo, Thorin told himself. He cannot possibly harm you.

Then all thought disappeared, as the hobbit bent his head forward. Thorin groaned, resisting the urge to grip Bilbo by the hair, to push his head further down. The hobbit clearly had done this before, not only using his lips but also his tongue and hands to give Thorin the utmost pleasure.

Yes, yes he did want this, need this.

He started to thrust into Bilbo’s mouth.

This was… he had forgotten how good…he was about to…

“Wait, wait stop!” He pushed Bilbo away. The hobbit stumbled backwards. Thorin pumped himself once with his own hand and groaned out his release onto the leafy floor beneath them. It took him a few moments to collect himself. He did up his leggings and covered himself with his furs.

Bilbo was no longer with him. In fact the hobbit was moving very quickly from the area.

“Bilbo? Bilbo!” Thorin started to rush after him. “Bilbo stop, I demand you!”

The hobbit whirled around, his eyes conveying such a magnitude of anger that Thorin resisted the urge to step back.

“You, you are unbelievable! I am…” He threw his hands up in the air. “Is this how you treat all your lovers? Simply throw them aside once you’ve finished with them?”

_Infuriating hobbit! Where is this coming from?_

“What are you talking about?”

“I am not your plaything to be literally tossed aside once you’ve had enough of… what we were doing. For one thing, I landed on a twig. It went straight into my thigh. I think I’m bleeding-“

“No, no I wasn’t ‘tossing you aside’, you idiot hobbit! I pushed you back because I was about to…”

He suddenly stopped, as a memory suddenly plagued his brain.

The mayor, forcing what Bilbo just gave freely.

“Swallow it.” Raynar said. Thorin was gasping, choking. He couldn’t breath. He didn’t want this. A prince-who-would-be-king forced to taste the result of his rapist’s climax.

“You pushed me… again! Is this going to happen every time we are in any way intimate?”

“I’m sorry.” Thorin said quietly. He suddenly felt very numb. He leant back to the tree behind him but then decided that he didn’t want to lean. He wanted to sit. So he simply sat down on the lush grass, his hands around his knees, which rested up against his chest.

“What are you doing now?” Bilbo said. “Oh never mind! This is… every time I think I’m getting somewhere with you, I get literally pushed aside. It’s getting rather painful. As in physically painful.”

_No, you silly silly hobbit. You don’t understand._

“I pushed you aside because I was about to…I did no wish to… complete… in your mouth. I am aware of how… disgusting such things are. I did not wish to force that upon you.”

He could see Bilbo suddenly stopping, in his mind, reversing his thoughts.

“I apologize if I pushed you back rather roughly.”

“Oh I am an idiot.” Bilbo suddenly rubbed his face with his hands. “I am a true fool.”

“I was truly enjoying your seduction.” Thorin could not generate an emotion to suit the words.

Bilbo sat down beside him, taking his hand.

“Your hand is cold.”

“Hm…”

“What if I… didn’t mind you… completing in my mouth?” Thorin felt Bilbo rubbing his hand, in an obvious attempt to warm it.

_When does it end? When does the ghost of Raynar truly depart?_

Voices sounded behind them. Giggles, whispers.

Thorin and Bilbo stood up in time for Kili and Fili to enter the clearing. Upon seeing the other two, the brothers stilled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…”

“We’re just… headed back to camp.”

They moved away as fast as if a pack of orc were chasing them. Bilbo laughed. Thorin couldn’t build the humour. Instead, he grabbed the hobbit, burying his face in his chest. He felt warm, strong. Bilbo’s arms went around his back, entangled in his hair.

“You are infuriating, Thorin Oakenshield. But I am here. I am here.”

Tbc…


	6. The Ghastliness of Honour Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! This is, more or less, following the book. Enjoy!

It was a five-day journey to Lake Town. To begin with, Thorin had been rather jolly. Or, as jolly as the usually quiet, grumpy dwarf leader could be. He was more apt to burst out into spontaneous singing, and to laugh more readily at the dwarves’ (particularly Kili and Fili’s) pranks. To Bilbo’s contentment, he would often show subtle signs of affection towards the hobbit in front of the other dwarves; a touch on the shoulder or back, a hand in his hair to remove a stray leaf. Away from the dwarves, Thorin was becoming less inhibited, eager to touch or be touched.

 Bilbo felt that he was certainly benefiting from this change in the prince.

 As they moved closer to the thatched huts, beneath the mountain in the distance, however, Thorin suddenly became more sullen, more prone to fits of temper. Though he now did not direct them at Bilbo, the hobbit kept more time with the other dwarves. At night, Thorin’s affections now diminished to simply falling asleep with the hobbit next to him. It was very difficult for Bilbo not to openly show his bewilderment.

 They finally arrived at the bridge passing over the lake into the town. It looked to be a rather peaceful, pretty place. Set at the base of the snowy mountains, the thatched houses sat, at various sizes, around, and occasionally on, the clear water. Various wooden paths and bridges connected place to place. Lit lamps within the dwellings provided a warm glow.

 Two guards stood at the base of the bridge.

 “Who goes here?” One asked.

 Dwalin stepped forward. Bilbo looked to Thorin, who moved further back, covering his face with his hood.

 “We are dwarves, on route to the Lonely Mountain.” Dwalin said. “We wish to speak to the Master of the town.”

 Bilbo shot another look to Thorin.

 The two guards whispered to each other, then turned back to the dwarves. “Very well. This way.”

 As they passed along the bridge across the lake, Bilbo could not help but feel a little confused, as Thorin continued to hover near the back of the group, leaving Dwalin to take the lead. They swiftly moved along the bank of the lake, to the tallest hut on the foreshore. Inside, at the end of a long dining hall, three regal looking men were eating what appeared to be a rather sumptuous feast. A few of the dwarves openly sighed at the sight of the various fowls and flora on the table.

 The Master, seated in the middle chair, turned out to be a rather jolly looking, tall fellow, with dark hair and humour filled dark eyes. He gave the dwarves and hobbit a warm looking over, as Dwalin explained their plight. The other two beside the Master appeared less welcoming.

 “Why, certainly! We always welcome new guests to our town!”

 Bilbo felt Thorin stiffen beside him.

 “I can put you up in the tavern. There are plenty of upstairs rooms for you all.”

 As they moved away, guided by one of the fair women of the town, a few of the dwarves remarked how easy that was. Thorin grunted but said no more.

 When they reached the tavern, rather raucous singing issued from the downstairs bar.

 “Fili! Kili!” Thorin shouted, as the two went to join all of the others (bar Thorin, Dwalin, Balin and Bilbo) through the swinging doors to where the music sounded from. “You are coming with me!”

 “But, uncle-“ Kili protested.

 “Now!” Thorin shouted.

 Bilbo caught Kili looking to Fili, as though to protest, but his brother simply shook his head.

 The woman escorted the four up a wide spiral staircase, then down a corridor carpeted by a stained off-white carpet. Four doors spouted off either side of the hall.

 “These are the rooms.” The woman said. “Breakfast starts from sunrise.”

 “We thank you for your hospitality.” Thorin said. The woman looked at him, as though seeing him for the first time, her cheeks reddening.  She murmured thanks and rushed back down the stairs.

 “Fili, Kili, you’re with Bilbo and I.” Thorin went to the south most left door and opened it. The room consisted of a large bed overlooking a brick fireplace, with a rattling chest of drawers beside it. A smaller bed sat by the window, overlooking the main street of town.

 The four piled in, Kili looking around with obvious distaste.

 “You two are not to leave my sight! I do not intend to spend long in this town.”

 Kili again launched into a flurry of protest. Thorin turned to the fireplace and started to move twigs and paper from the small basket alongside, clearly ignoring him. Bilbo caught Fili grabbing his brother by the hand, silencing him with a shake of head.

 “This is unfair!” Kili grumbled. Both brothers moved to the single bed and put their belongings down. Bilbo joined Thorin by the fireplace.

 “It will be over soon, for which I will be very glad.” Thorin said, as he lit the small pile of paper and twigs he’d carefully set up in the fireplace. He turned to face Bilbo directly. The hobbit was, as ever, caught in his steely gaze. “The long years of wandering have, indeed, taken their toll.”

 “It is not obvious, if it’s true.” Bilbo said, quietly. “You are strong and beautiful.”

 A shy smile overtook the stern face, transforming the beauty into something beyond ethereal. Bilbo resisted the urge to look away from such magnificence. Thorin reached over and took his hand.

The prince started to sing, his rich melodious voice filling the room. The softer tones of Fili and Kili joined him. They moved to sit on the bed behind him; words of courage and defiance in the face of incredible odds. Bilbo closed his eyes and allowed the music to overtake him. He felt the little hairs on his arms raise, his mind replete with images of the great tenacity of the dwarf people, Smaug’s brutality, the lonely, desperate years of wandering, a yearning for a place to call home. Bilbo repeated, in his mind, his determination to see this through to the end.

 “Do hobbits have songs, Bilbo?” Kili asked.

 “Why, yes, we do!” Bilbo said, and, with a sweet voice, started in on his own melody. “The road goes ever on…”

 When he finished, Fili and Kili burst out into applause. Thorin laughed and clapped him on the back. “Why, you do have major talents, my precious Bilbo!”

 Bilbo again found himself ensnared in the intense gaze. It took a moment to realise that Fili and Kili had moved back to their single bed.

 “It is late. We should sleep.” Thorin said. Bilbo followed him to the larger bed and took off his cloak. Thorin, as per usual, collapsed on top of the bed with his furs on. The hobbit glanced to Kili and Fili. Both were under the covers on the single bed, light and dark heads respectively sticking out. Bilbo pulled the covers over himself and settled himself against Thorn’s side, reaching his arm around his waist. It occurred to him, at that point, that fears for the quest held no concern for him. He would take on all manner of dragon, to prolong just a few more moments with his beloved prince.

 His thoughts started to break up, as his body started to succumb to grateful sleep.

 Footsteps pattered beside the bed. Frowning, Bilbo snuggled closer into Thorin. The door creaked open, then clicked shut.

  _Not my problem. Sleep._

 Bilbo rolled back over and looked to the single bed. Now, only a blond head poked out from under the covers.

  _No, still not my problem._

 He rolled back into Thorin.

_Why does he have to always be so overprotective of his nephews?_

Cursing, Bilbo started to roughly shake Thorin.

 “Wake up, Thorin!”

 At this point, Bilbo knew enough of dwarven language to guess what kind of insult Thorin yelled at him, upon waking.

 “I thought you would want to know.” He pointed at the bed opposite.

 Grumbling, Thorin rose up onto his elbows, glanced at the Kili-less bed opposite, then was off his own bed so fast, he almost knocked Bilbo to the ground, in his haste. Without another word, he stomped out of the room. Stomach twisting with anxiety, Bilbo quickly rushed to follow him.

 It did not take long to find the deserter. Indeed, as he rushed down the hall, and down the stairs, after Thorin, he was not the least surprised to see the prince go into the tavern area. Nor, was it puzzling to find Kili, seated in a chair by the bar, taking a drink off Bofur, his amused look quickly changing upon seeing his uncle.

 “Didn’t I tell you to stay with me?” Thorin raged.

 “Come, now Thorin. You don’t have to be so overprotective.” Balin said. “Kili is perfectly safe here.”

 “I’m fine, uncle. Really.”

 Thorin looked from Kili, to Balin then back again. “We’re leaving. Everyone collect your things. We are leaving now.”

 ###

 Thorin paced back and forth. He found he simply could not sit or stand, as the others. It was taking too long. Far too long. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Bilbo go to into the hidden door alone. Though the hobbit was determined to prove himself, he had already showed that he was no thief. It had been the plan, from the beginning. But still… it did nothing to dispel the stone weighing down his innards.

 A fluttering sounded. Low… so low he almost misheard it.

 He stopped pacing, swung around to face the others and opened his mouth. The fluttering grew louder.

 “Hide!” He screamed at the others. All of the dwarves dove to the ground, crouching amongst the rocks and bushes at the base of the mountain, as the rumbling of debris crashing and falling around them signaled Smaug escaping from his hide out. Thorin curled up into a tight ball, silently praying that the others had hidden well from Smaug’s sight and smell, particularly Fili and Kili. A wild fluttering sounded above them, followed by a loud almighty roar. Thorin did not risk looking up, did not wish to blemish his eye site with the enormous fowl red creature.

 He waited until the great flapping sound grew further and further in the distance before risking standing up again.

 “He will be going to the Lake Town!” Balin cried. “It is as we feared!”

 Thorin did not have it in him to care for the people of Lake Town, at that point. He only had one thing on his mind.

 "Bilbo!” He rushed forward, and was about to go through the secret door, when the hobbit came stumbling out.

  _Whole. Unharmed._

 Thorin let out a laugh of joy and clutched the hobbit to him.

 “What happened?” Bofur asked, once Thorin released Bilbo.

Bilbo looked around the group with the usual wide-eyed cunning. In his curious, stumbling fashion, he told the tale of outsmarting Smaug. Though he was not as forceful and charismatic in his speech as Thorin was, nor as captivating as Balin, he still held all of the dwarves utterly enthralled. When he finished his story, the dwarves cheered.

 “The treasure is unguarded. We must go there now!” Thorin said.

 “Smaug will return.” Balin frowned.

 “This time, we will be the ones to guard the treasure! He will come back for a surprise indeed!” Thorin laughed.

 A loud roar echoed in the distance.

 “Come, let us see what bounty Smaug has left us!” Thorin place an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, and started to walk through the secret door to Smaug’s treasure.

 Tbc…

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Thanks to all reading and reviewing (and the kudos).  
> Coming to the end now.  
> I've departed somewhat from the book in this chapter, while attempting to keep key elements in.  
> Enjoy!

Deep within the foundation of the mountain, through a very narrow, winding path, stood the great chamber. Upon the spacious floor, piled higher than all of the dwarves’ heights combined, lay Smaug’s pilfered treasure. With great enthusiasm, the dwarves had already started to rummage through and sort the various jewels, metals and trinkets, dressing themselves in outfits of gold and silver, aligning their fingers with sparkling rings and their necks with chains bearing stones of untold value.

 With the thought of Smaug’s return ever at the forefront of their minds, upon Thorin’s command, Dwalin, Gloin, Nori and Dori stood at the base of the mountain, on watch. Any sight of the beast and the dwarves were ready for a swift and brutal attack. This time, there would be no hesitation. Smaug would not defeat them. It would end very efficiently, with the dragon’s heart ripped from its body.

 Thorin, himself, sat in the middle of the chamber, upon a high golden throne. The most valuable of jewels, the Arkenstone, lay upon his chest. Bilbo had been the one to find the precious stone. Seeing Thorin’s face light up, upon gazing at the heirloom, was enough to vanquish all the dread still permeating his body from his encounter with Smaug, replacing it with a distillation of the dazzled passion he felt, whenever he gazed upon his beloved.  The hobbit now sat beside Thorin, fidgeting. Even with the ones on look out, even despite the plan to fight when necessary, he was amiss as to why the dwarves were happy to re-plunder the treasure from Smaug, when the dragon was still out there, somewhere. Long before, Balin had left, to try and track the fowl creature. Bilbo could only hope that he would arrive back, with plenty of warning.

 “Do not be concerned.” Thorin turned to look at him. “We are prepared. So are you.” He rolled up Bilbo’s sleeve, revealing the mithril undergarment he had gifted to the hobbit, to protect him from attack.

 Certainly, Bilbo wanted dearly to believe Thorin on this. After all, he sat so kingly upon his throne. Indeed, there shone from him a regal light of such radiance that Bilbo felt in awed to be within distance of it.

 The king under the mountain had adopted such a strong, dignified bearing that Bilbo felt with every ounce of his being. And yet, there was coldness there too. It was almost reminiscent of the elves. Somehow, Thorin, upon rediscovering his riches, had shape changed, as Beorn could. He appeared above now, beyond the wants or whims of his former being.

_Don’t be foolish, Bilbo. He is the same prince he has always been. Why aren’t you joyful that he has reclaimed his treasure?_

 Footsteps sounded up the path that led to the chamber.

 The dwarves looked around themselves  in clear concern. Kili withdrew his bow and arrow. Fili raised his sword. Both dropped them, when Balin stepped into the vast cavern, flanked by two tall men.

 “I come bearing both great and terrible news!” Balin said. Bilbo looked to the two men, beside him, frowning. “The dragon, Smaug, has been defeated, at terrible cost.”

 Instantly, a hush fell over the group of dwarves.

 “Defeated?” Bilbo asked.

_Could this possibly be true?_

 One of the men stepped forward and bowed at Thorin. “I am Bard and I slew Smaug myself by piercing his heart with my arrow. This is not before a great terror overcame our town. Indeed, there is little left. Many of the houses burnt. Many of the people killed.”

 “That is, indeed a terrible tragedy. You have my condolences.” Thorin spoke but, to Bilbo, there appeared no emotion behind the words.

 An uncomfortable silence followed.  The second man stepped forward. “We ask pity and friendship from you dwarves. Indeed, we have slain the dragon that has so ruined your people all these years. All we ask for, in response, is a share of the treasure, so that we may rebuild Lake Town.”

 The silence grew longer.

 “It is a fair ask.” Balin said, quietly.

 Bilbo looked to Thorin directly and almost gasped aloud at the King’s expression.

_What is wrong with him?_

The coldness on Thorin’s face had magnified to a winter freeze.

_Thorin…_

 “It is a terrible fate what befell your town. Alas, this is not our doing. Why should we give you our treasure? Don’t you see how arrogant it is for you men to come here and ask this of us? This treasure is ours! We have paid for it in ways unimaginable. You can’t even begin to conceive of what I have given up to attain this!” Thorin stood up, shaking with fury. “Leave us! I will not give your wretched town a mere nugget of gold.”

 The men’s astonishment was obvious. As was the dwarves’.

 “Thorin, let us talk in private.” Balin said.

 “The matter is decided! Get these men out of my sight!”

 The dwarves quietly watched the men leave.

 “Thorin-“ Bilbo thought perhaps he could talk sense to the prince.

 “Last I checked, I did not take orders from a hobbit!” Thorin spat.

 Feeling his cheeks burn, Bilbo stood up from his seat and moved away from the prince.

_What has just happened?_

“They will not take kindly to this.” Dwalin said. “They may even declare war.”

 Thorin laughed bitterly. “Let them try. A defeated town against the might of the dwarves? Yes, it should be interesting.”

 ###

 That night was the first since he and Thorin had declared their feelings, that Bilbo slept away from the prince. He could not bear to be near him, still shocked and disheartened by his decision not to help the people of Lake Town. Even if Smaug had not been slain, Bilbo would have still argued to give them some of the jewels, for the simple detail of the town’s devastation. The fact that the town took them in with such open hospitality, seemed a further stab to his conscience.

_How could Thorin be so cruel?_

 He told himself that, despite what his feelings told him, he truly did not know the prince. Perhaps this was his true self; a selfish, arrogant coward. Bilbo wiped a stray tear from his face.

_If this is true, then so be it. I will not allow war to come to us._

He crept close to where Thorin lay, huddled in the corner, surrounded by his trinkets.Bilbo knelt beside him and looked to the Arkenstone, around his neck. Such startling blue, indeed, it truly was the blue of the dwarf’s eyes. Bilbo shook his head of such thoughts. He looked at the way Thorin’s wild long hair fanned around his face and shoulders.

_I just want to plunge my hands into it, just- stop it Bilbo!_

 He resisted the strong urge to veritably slap himself.

 Bilbo leant forward. A few feet away, Dwalin coughed. Bilbo jumped and glanced over. The dwarf rolled so he faced away from them. With a racing heart and shaking hands, Bilbo grabbed the Arkenstone and tenderly tore it from the small chain in which Thorin had strung it.

 “I’m sorry.” He whispered, as he pocketed it. With a heavy heart, Bilbo then made his way out of the chamber.

 ###

 The sight of the desecrated town would tarnish Bilbo’s memory for many years to come. In place of the simple beauty of the wooden huts now stood burnt out husks, some still smoldering. A great sense of mourning and loss pervaded the entire scene. It seemed unnatural, somehow, this destruction, out of place in an ordered world.

 The bridge was one of the few structures that survived. Standing on the edge, stood Bard. He looked out to the wilderness with harrowed eyes. When Bilbo approached, he held up his bow and arrow.

 “Don’t shoot! I come in peace and friendship!”

 “What do you want?” Bard did not relinquish his aim.

 “I have come with a jewel of such rarity, its worth is beyond what you could possibly dream.”

 Bard’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

 “Thorin has… changed his mind. He says he regrets his… former words. That is why he bade me come here and give you this.”

 He took the Arkenstone out of his pocket and held it up. Bard’s suspicious look changed to one of amazement.

 “The Arkenstone…” He whispered. “Its worth is beyond measure.”

 “Take it.” Bilbo said, placing it in his hand. “Rebuild your town.”

 Bard looked down to the stone. It radiated up onto his face, the blue darkening in his brown eyes.

 “We are beyond fortunate to be given such a gift. I admit to being overcome.”

 “It is our gratitude for killing Smaug.” Bilbo said. “I bid you goodbye.” He started to walk away, hoping that this gesture would be enough for the men of the Lake Town.

_I must hurry. I must be back before Thorin awakens._

 Bilbo’s plan was to pretend to be as shocked as the others, when Thorin awoke to find the jewel gone. He rushed through the forest opposite the Lake Town, hurrying as fast as his hairy feet could take him, back to the mountain.

 “And so he reveals himself.”

 Bilbo gave a squawk of fear, reaching for Sting and bringing it out. Thorin stepped out of the trees to his left. His expression was unlike Bilbo had ever seen before, pure murderous rage.

 “The traitor! The one who would go behind our backs to sell us out, to men of all creatures!”

 “I am not selling you out!” Bilbo kept his sword up. His heart was pounding so hard, he was sure it would be the death of him, before Thorin hurt him. If that was, indeed, the dwarf’s intention. “They defeated Smaug. Their town has been destroyed It’s a small gesture-“

 “A small gesture! That is my family’s heirloom you just gave them!” Thorin turned and kicked at the base of a sturdy tree nearby. “I should have known better than to trust another race. It’s always the same. All are out to debase and dishonour dwarves!”

 “You are not making sense! Listen to yourself, Thorin!”

 “No, I’m making complete sense! Every time I have trusted another race, they have turned around and dishonoured, or betrayed me in some way.”

 “No, I wasn’t betraying you!” Bilbo put down the sword, in a gesture that he hoped looked to be supplicating. “I’m… I’m sorry Thorin. I was trying to prevent a war! I did it to protect you!”

 “Protect me?” Thorin laughed. “You protect me? Look at you, pathetic creature! And look at me! I am a brave warrior. What are you? A pathetic hobbit who pretends to be something he is not!”

  _Brave warrior? Where was your bravery the day of your defilement?_

 Bilbo reeled back, horrored at his thoughts. He felt physically ill.

 “Don’t bother coming back to us.” Thorin said. “You are no longer welcome with our group.”

 He was already gone before a stunned Bilbo could reply.

 ###

 Bilbo was only able to make a small fire, but it was enough. It wasn’t as though he could feel the cold that night, anyway. His entire body felt numb, the argument with Thorin whirling in his head. So, this was the end. The next day, he would begin the lone journey back to Hobbiton, where he would no longer be subject to the tantrums of unstable dwarves. That would be a delight, wouldn’t it?

 Only, his mind, always on the lookout to betray him, refused to think of Thorin’s final moments, but of his good ones. From the big gestures, such as him being the first to drop his sword to cease Bilbo from being ripped apart by trolls, to the little ones, a hand on the small of Bilbo’s back, a secret smile just for him. He recalled Thorin’s smell, earthy, spicy, salty.

 “What have I done?” He asked himself.

 A leaf crunched to his left. Bilbo reached for Sting, drawing it out.

 “Who goes there?” He asked, risking a glance down. Thankfully, the sword wasn’t blue.

 Thorin appeared before him, eyes reddened, hair tangled with leaves and sticks.

 “I’m sorry.” Thorin’s voice did sound full of regret. “I am truly sorry.”

 “Thorin.” Bilbo rushed to him, held him in his arms.

 “I allowed the greed that has been the curse of my family overtake me. I saw it in my father and told myself that I would never suffer the same. But it has. We will go to Lake Town tomorrow. I will tell them they can have a share of the treasure.”

 “Sit down. Please, sit down.” Bilbo felt so overcome with emotion at Thorin returning that he could barely sit still. He sat Thorin down by the fire and went about collecting twigs to make it bigger.

 “I have given thought to my actions the past few days and they are not becoming of a king. I vow to be better, try better for my people.”

 “I have given thought to what you said.” Bilbo said, sitting beside Thorin. He longed to take his hand but instinct ruled against it. “I understand you feel betrayed by the elves. They abandoned you in your greatest time of need. And I…. I guess I betrayed you to. In my defense, I can only say I did what I thought was best for all of us.”

 “Of course. I don’t think you have it in you to be deliberately deceitful.” Thorin sighed and rubbed his face. “My dealings with people have been anything but kind and just.” He paused. “I have never told any other this story. Others have guessed at the truth, certainly. But shame has prevented me from revealing the details.” He reached out and clamed a hand on Bilbo’s leg. “But I wish to tell you, dear Bilbo. It is important for me that you know of the horrors that inform some of how I am today.”

 Bilbo swallowed, steeling himself. He had an idea of what was coming. It would not make the hearing of it any easier.

 “Many years before, this is before even Kili and Fili were born, we came across a small village under a mountain pass. It had been a cruel winter. Our people were starving and in need of medicine. Dwalin had warned me against going in to speak to the mayor of the town. He had heard that he was distrustful of dwarves. But I ignored him.” He paused. “I went in alone to see the man. He told me he would grant food and medicine for my people. Under one condition.”

 Bilbo closed his eyes. He somehow knew what Thorin would say next.

 “That I be his consort for the night. At first, I denied him. But then, I thought of my people. I realized I had no choice.” Thorin took his hand away from Bilbo’s leg and folded his arms. His hair covered his face. Even so, Bilbo could see the shame discolouring the dusky skin. Thorin’s hands clenched and unclenched in a rhythmic fashion.  “He bade me undress and led me to a small room. Chains manacled the headboard of the bed. I realized his intent and… I couldn’t go through with it. Not… like that. We fought and he… overpowered me… chained me to the bed.” He shuddered. “Forced himself on me.”

 “Oh Thorin…” Bilbo felt his eyes prick with tears, his stomach twist with horror.

 “He… more than once, throughout the night. I was powerless to stop him. In the morning, he simply unmanacled me and let me go. I was bleeding, barely conscious. The rest of that time in the town is still a blur. Merely hours from that dastardly place, I collapsed. Dwalin and Balin suspected. It was from this they knew for sure.”

 Bilbo’s struggle to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks was defeated. “Oh no…” Was all he could say.

 Thorin looked at him, reached out and wiped the tears from his face. “You cry. You cry for me.”

 “Tell me where the town is. I would dearly like to meet this sickened man!” Bilbo said viciously.

 “He is dead. Dwalin told me. He went back into the town, while I convalesced and made certain that he would never hurt a dwarf again.”

 “Good. Good. I’m glad of it. I hope he made him suffer.”

 A slight, humourless smile overtook the genial face.

 “So now you know of my cowardice.”

 “No! Not cowardice! It is that despicable man who was the coward! Overpowering a dwarf the most despicable way he knew how. You showed bravery in overcoming such brutality to be the noble dwarf you are now.”

 “Noble!” Thorin laughed. “Yes the one who refused to help a town who needed it.”

 “The one who will protect his people, at all costs! The one who loves his nephews so dearly, he will do anything for them!”

 At the thought of Fili and Kili, Thorin paled. Bilbo reached over and grabbed his hand. “They are safe. They will not be harmed.”

 “You cannot guarantee that. Not even I can guarantee that.”

 Bilbo reached over and placed his arm around his back. Thorin flinched.

 “I don’t know how you put up with me at times, Bilbo.”

 “Yes, it is truly a challenge, I admit. But then, there is the fact that you are the most incredible being I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Bilbo snuggled closer, trailing a finger down his furs. Thorin leant forward and placed his lips to Bilbo’s. The hobbit moaned, pulling Thorin in closer, as their tongues tangled.

 “I am fearful of harming you.” Thorin said. Bilbo moaned, as he felt a rough hand grope at his groin. “But I am tired of this event having such control over my life.” He kissed Bilbo, this time with more force, as he undid the hobbit’s breeches. “Take me.” He whispered in Bilbo’s ear. “I wish to give you pleasure.”

 Bilbo groaned aloud. Thorin’s voice and hands and look and smell were playing havoc with his emotions. He wanted this… damn, needed this more than anything. To have the king, to show him that love making could be without pain but rather the opposite…

 But then he realized he couldn’t. Not with Thorin so vulnerable.

 “We don’t have to. Not now. Let’s just… touch each other. There is no need to rush anything.”

 The two came together once more, using hands and tongue and lips to bring each other to the peak of pleasure.  They rested a while, before starting again, with a hunger that suggested that they had an instinct that this would be their last night together.

 In the morning, as they began to walk back to the mountain, Bilbo felt an odd loss that he could not explain. Something was about to happen… a great ill was about to overcome them…

 No… he pushed the emotions down. He was with Thorin.

 All was good.

 Tbc…


	8. Chapter 8

Bilbo gaze wandered across to the towering dark green cliffs before him. Though the splendor, in every other circumstance, would cause any being to tear up at the sight, now he teared up for a different reason. This part of his story he had not thought of for many a year. He did not need to go into detail. Frodo knew of the horror and suffering of war. Though many a naïve being would speak of honour and nobility in war, to Bilbo, it was simply untrue. In the Battle of the Five Armies, he only saw suffering, pain, and thankless death.

 “Kili was the first.” He said, his bland voice at odds with his inner anguish. “Taken out by an arrow of a goblin. The death was quick. That is the only justice in it.” He didn’t add Fili’s cry of absolute anguish and horror, rushing over to cradle his brother’s body in his arms. “Fili rushed out to reak vengeance on the death of his brother. It took three goblins to take him down. It wasn’t until the end of the battle that I finally reached Thorin.” He stopped, prepared himself, swallowing down his regret, his sorrow. “He had been pierced many times with arrows. You know the story. I have already told you what he said, before he died, in my first recounting of the tale. But I did not add the last words. ‘I will see you again, my precious Bilbo.’”

 Hearing a sob, he looked to his side. Tears slid down Frodo’s cheeks.

 “Oh my dear Bilbo! That you have suffered so much. That Thorin suffered so much. It’s simply not fair. You never even had the chance to properly be together!”

 “Yes, it is true. To begin with, I felt almost overcome with sorrow and anger at the injustice of it all. But then, something miraculous happened.” He smiled. “You were born.”

 Frodo’s sweet face appeared puzzled.

 “And as you grew, I grew to love you, as Thorin did his nephews. It was my pleasure, to see what an intelligent, remarkable hobbit you have become. Even more remarkable that you were able to destroy the ring of power. Yes, I know the full story now.” He smiled a little at Frodo’s look of surprise.

 "You don’t know the full story, Bilbo.” Frodo gazed down at his hand, to the stump where his middle finger used to be. “The ring wasn’t destroyed because of me. Gollum wrestled it off me then fell into the fires of Mount Doom. I wanted the ring to myself, Bilbo.” His face went red with shame.

 “I know that feeling, Frodo. You know I had the ring for many years.” He paused. “There is more to this story. At the end of the battle, the necromancer lay dieing… or so we thought.”

 Frodo looked up. “The necromancer was Sauron, wasn't he?”

 Bilbo nodded. “He appeared to us, in his human form.”

 “What did he look like?”

 Bilbo recalled the ethereal image. “Beautiful… though unlike the elves. Something different again. Pale blue eyes, lighter than Thorin’s, the colour of the clearest crystal water.  Burning red hair, the colour of the fairest sunset. He was pale, like the elves and tall.. .but there was a wildness to his look that conjured the dwarves. His voice was unlike any I had ever heard. Rich and velvety. The kind of voice that you would follow into the very fires of Mount Doom to hear just one syllable. ‘I can bring him back.’ He told me. ‘I have that power.’ I wanted to believe him, Frodo. I yearned with every fibre of my being to say yes. Indeed, I was about to. Then Gandalf spoke. ‘He will not be as you remembered, Bilbo. A necromancer can never bring someone back whole.’ No.” He wiped a stray tear from his face. “It was then I decided. I would have Thorin whole again. I was a young hobbit then. But it didn’t matter. A lifetime is really not too long to wait, for an eternity with my beloved.”

 Frodo’s warm hand in his suddenly startled him. His nephew looked to him and smiled through his tears.

 ###

 The boat smoothly pulled to a stop, the anchor cast out. Bilbo, now standing at the bow,  felt his heart flutter with the resonance of a bird’s wings, his breath quicken. After the sandy white foreshore, a path zigzagged through the rugged, forest terrain to a massive castle, with many turrets, built into the side of a snow capped green mountain.

 “This is our stop.” Gandalf’s voice suddenly sounded by Bilbo’s ear. He turned to the wizard, Galadriel and Elrond standing behind them. The two elves held enigmatic smiles.

 “Oh so we’re getting off…?” Bilbo asked.

 “The elven journey is a little further onwards.” Elrond said.

 Bilbo moved to them.

 “We will see each other again.” Galadriel said, as Bilbo lifted her hand and kissed it.

 ###

 It was a short journey to the castle. Bilbo felt his excitement grow with each step. Gandalf seemed likewise in a good mood. He started to whistle a jolly tune. As reached the entrance, the grand doors swing open and two figures, dark and light haired alike, came rushing out.

 “Well, hello there!”

 Bilbo could only stare a moment. The last time he’d seen these two, their faces had the wax like appearance of the dead, as they were prepared for their tomb.

 Now, they looked ever so alive, their faces flushed with mischievousness.

 “What made you take so long?” Fili laughed.

 Bilbo laughed back and came forward to embrace first Fili, then Kili, before Gandalf did likewise.

 “This here is my nephew, Frodo.”

 The three bade greetings to each other.

 “I suppose you’ll want to come inside.” Kili said.

 As they walked through the vast castle, fashioned with great mastery of craft that only the dwarves could achieve, Bilbo had to mentally slap himself to truly believe that he was there. It had seemed only the day before, that he had stood by, numb with grief, as the three in the line of Durin were escorted to their tomb. They arrived before the doors of the throne room.

 This is it, Bilbo thought to himself. He will be here.

 The doors opened. To the side of the room, under colourful tapestries, he recognized Balin and Dwalin. Three regal figures sat, on grand thrones, in the centre of the room. Two he did not recognize, but their similar noble bone structure attested to them being of the Durin line. One, he recognized all too well.

 He found he couldn’t move forward, frozen to the vast marble floor. Though he held that face in his mind for the past sixty years, it did not contend with actually seeing him again. Instantly, his already fluttering heart went into overdrive. It didn’t help that Thorin started beaming, then laughing upon seeing the new arrivals. Gandalf came forward to embrace the prince. Bilbo still found he couldn’t move, afraid somehow to touch one of such regal yet wild beauty.

 “What are you doing? Go to him, idiot!” Kili said.

 Thorin’s blue eyes then came to rest directly on Bilbo, as Gandalf turned his attention to the two similar looking men beside the prince.

 Bilbo found himself moving forward, almost not of his own accord.

 “Bilbo!” Thorin came forward, favoured him yet another soul melting smile, and then embraced him. His scent filled Bilbo’s nostrils; salty, spicy, distinctly Thorin. He found himself inexplicably weeping, turning his face into the dwarf’s chest.

 “I have missed you too.” Thorin said quietly. Bilbo felt light, comforting hands in his hair. This only served to have him weep louder.

 “All will be fine. All will be fine.” Thorin said.

 ###

 Bilbo could barely believe that it was real, that his limbs were now entangled with Thorin’s, that he was close enough to smell the familiar spicy/musky scent that was particular to the prince, that he could feel the softness of his wild hair, the hammering of his heart.

 “Frodo seems to have made a few friends.” Thorin murmured into Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo’s mind momentarily went back to earlier in the evening. Frodo laughed at Kili and Fili’s shenanigans at the dinner table, then proceeded to join in, himself.

 “Hm…that is good.” He grabbed Thorin’s chin and gently forced it up into a sating kiss. “Let’s make love. I want you to have me.”

 Thorin’s brow creased. “I’ll hurt you.”

 “You won’t. Just… be gentle.”

 The disconcerted look on the prince’s face had not faded.

 “I want this. Please… I’ve been waiting sixty years! Stop being a prude.”

 Thorin laughed and leant down to claim Bilbo’s mouth once more.

 Bilbo suspected that Thorin was deliberately putting off the main act. After a ludicrous amount of foreplay, which included plenty of lube, he eased over onto his stomach and moaned as the prince gently and slowly entered him. As the lovemaking continued, Thorin continually asked if he was feeling hurt, they could stop whenever he wanted. Even with the knowledge of Thorin’s past, it took all of Bilbo’s impulse to not shout out for Thorin to stop being so gentle and take him, hard and fast, as he’d always imagined the powerful dwarf would!

 When he did finally reach the inevitable peak, it felt sweet, rather than the wild ‘I’ve orgasmed so hard my head feels like it’s just exploded and I’m pretty sure I’m now blind’ climax he’d always envisioned with Thorin.

 “That was… that was something…” Thorin said, after he oh-so-gently removed himself from his lover and lay alongside him, still panting.

 Bilbo agreed it was. Indeed, they had all of eternity to build on it.

 Tbc…

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who are still following. One more chapter to go!  
> I know I sort of rushed through the battle and accompanying angst... mainly because I really wanted to get to the Thorin/Bilbo reunion.  
> My description of the necromancer is based on the lovely Benedict Cumberbatch's appearance (I figured seeing as he's playing the necromancer).  
> I'm a big 'bottom' Thorin fan, so that will def be included in next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the very long wait for this final chapter. I saw the trailer for the next hobbit film and it gave me the impetus to finally finish this series! Thanks to all who have read and reviewed,sent kudos! Hope you enjoyed the ride. :)

Thorin stood on the banks of the river, the sand cool beneath his bare feet, the snow dappled mountains, standing with majestic beauty beyond the calm green water, a welcome sight to his weary eyes.

 

There is a immense power, in tall things, he mused to himself, here, as in middle earth.  Just as there is immense power in the great deep. Having immense power, these things drew even greater power to them. Hence, the Mines of Moria drew the Balrog, hence the Lonely Mountain drew Smaug.

 

However, he had to remind himself that places of great height or depths always remained so, long after the inhabitants perished, regardless of the power they, themselves, brought to the place.

 

He pondered on the meaning of that word. Power. As the leader of his people, he had authority when he was alive and, arguably, that gave him power. However, unlike Smaug, he did not think that he used it to harm others.

 

Until the take back of the Lonely Mountain, that was. He frowned, feeling a sting of shame pierce his heart, at the thought of his dishonourable behaviour.

 

That was a choice, he told himself. A choice even more dishonorable than the night with the mayor, Raynar.

 

He knelt down and placed his elbow on his knee, cupping his fist to his forehead.

 

_With Raynar, I had no choice. He forced me.  But I cannot claim the same with the gold lust I allowed to take over my honourable actions._

 

 Such was the wizard’s characteristic quietness,  that he did not hear him approach.

 

“Thorin.” He spoke softly. Even so, Thorin jumped, startled.

 

“I thought you were aware I was here. I apologize for startling you.”

 

Thorin looked up, to Gandalf standing before him on the sand.  Something was not quite right about him. It took a moment for Thorin to figure out what. Then it came to him. Gandalf’s robes were grey, along with his hair.

 

“To be honest, I always preferred Gandalf the Grey, to my white incarnation. He was a lot more fun, don’t you agree?”

 

Thorin had no reply to this. In life, he had never met Gandalf the White. Furthermore, he was never the great fan of Gandalf the Grey that many of the other dwarves had been.

 

Gandalf studied him a moment, then took out a long pipe and stuffed some pipeweed into it and took a few puffs. He then blew out a perfect ring of white smoke.

 

“It’s a beautiful place to collect ones thoughts.” The wizard remarked, looking forward, to the opulent vista beyond the waters. “Strange to be in a place without any suffering, when one was so used to suffering, while in Middle Earth. No wars here, no pestilence. But yet our inner anguishes survive.”

 

Thorin frowned. Gandalf always had a knack for seeming to read other’s minds.

 

“Why is this so?” Thorin asked.

 

“Perhaps because without overcoming them, we do not gain the strength we need to become more evolved beings.”

 

Thorin felt the guilt piercing his chest slowly twist, narrowing it to a fine point. “I allowed the gold lust to take over.”

 

“You redeemed yourself, before the end. In the direst of circumstances, one does not always act their best. But, if they are able to recognize their failings, then that is a start, don’t you agree?”

 

Thorin’s mind went to Raynar. For the first time, he wondered where he was. Did he somehow come to the Undying Lands, after death, as well?

 

If so, did he ever acknowledge the suffering that he had bestowed on Thorin?

 

“A long time ago, I suffered a great anguish.” Thorin began, finally turning from the majestic vista to face Gandalf directly. “How did you know?”

 

The slight smile instantly left the weathered face. “I am a lot older than you, Thorin.” He said, gently. “I have seen great suffering, in my years, as well as great strength, of which you have both.”

 

Thorin frowned, turning away from him once more. This was not an answer, to him.

 

“Before I had the privilege of meeting you, I had heard of the great Thorin of Oakenshield. Tales were told of your strength, leadership, honour and power.”

 

There is that word. Power, Thorin thought.

 

“Dwarves… as with wizards… are not usually known for their physical beauty. Perhaps this is why folks also talked of your beauty.”

 

This time, when Thorin turned back to face him, he openly glared. A slight smile alighted the wizard's face, once more.

 

“A few of the more younger elves were even incensed to be told of a dwarf who shared a different, yet equal beauty to them.” Gandalf chuckled a little.

 

Thorin’s mind suddenly went to Elladan and Elrohir. Was it possible that their behaviour, at Rivendell, was a result of these ridiculous thoughts?

 

“Then there came another rumour.” Gandalf’s face darkened, losing all of its humour. “A man, who had heard of the great Thorin and wanted him for his own. A sickening man with no honour or reason, who saw a great figure of such qualities and only thought of his own sickened fantasies.”

 

“There was a man…” Thorin began quietly. “Mayor of a town. My people were hungry, in need of medicines. There was a cost to his help…one night as his consort. It did not matter to him that I panicked and changed my mind. If anything, he preferred it that I fought him. The great noble dwarf prince. King under the mountain.” He spat. “He was easily able to overpower me. And then he brutalized me. Over and over. You talk of honour? Of strength? Of power? I left mine there, in that tiny room. Manacled to his bed as he forced his lusts onto me.”

 

“No. You protected your people. You survived. _He_ was the one without honour. Without strength and power. _He_ was the one who needed to force another, to steal these qualities for himself.”

 

Thorin’s lips lifted up in a humourless smile. “And my so called beauty? Perhaps it was as simple as he wished to fulfill his lust.”

 

“Fulfilling one’s lust is not possible, if the other is in clear distress and anguish. Unless the desire is to _have_ the other in clear distress and anguish. I saw many in lust with you, Thorin, throughout our travels. They did not fulfill theirs because you did not wish for it, yourself. A man like this mayor, rather than being enchanted by beauty, as most are, felt threatened and angered by it. His forcing of you was to insult your beauty, not to glorify it.”

 

Thorin could not continue the conversation. The words were spinning around in his head, a series of provoking questions, with no true answers. A part of him, perhaps even a large part, wanted to believe these words. That he still regained honour, strength and power. That no actions upon him could take those qualities away. But there was a kernel of shame, shrunk in the intervening years, but still present, that told him the opposite.

 

“I must leave.” He said.

 

###

 

“Gandalf put forth this ridiculous notion today that I have great beauty, for a dwarf and, furthermore, that others have noticed.”

 

Bilbo stopped the incredible motions his tongue was doing to Thorin’s ear, to sit up on his lover’s stomach, and give him a look of pure exasperation.

 

“This is a trick of some kind?” Bilbo reached down to hook his fingers in one of Thorin’s dark plaits.

 

When Thorin didn’t reply, he continued.

 

“I think I might be the wrong one to ask. I am rather biased." Bilbo paused, then started shaking his head. "No. No no no. This is ridiculous! I’m not going to answer!”

 

“You can’t… I am your prince! I demand that you answer.”

 

“Oh shut up, really. Do shut up! You are one of the most….”

 

Thorin couldn’t help but feel mirth break through his torment. He truly did love to see Bilbo completely riled up in this way. Face flushed, hair mussed, mouth set in a determined yet frustrated line. Yes, the hobbit truly looked adorable. 

 

“You are…” He took a few deep breaths. “You are very beautiful. And yes, I’m not the only one who has noticed. There was a time, I was convinced I would have to compete with others for your attention.”

 

“I didn’t wish to be. For a long time, I didn’t wish anyone to notice that about me.”

 

“Rather difficult, considering….”

 

“The one who… shamed me. He had heard about my ‘great beauty’ and decided he would have me, whether I wished it or not.”

 

A look of uncharacteristic pure fury overcame the delicate face. “I’m certain that there are many others that had heard about your ‘great beauty’. The difference is, that their desire to ‘have you’, as you say, would involve you wishing for it also.”

 

“That is what Gandalf said. That his true desire was to cause me utmost pain and suffering. What creates such a man?”

 

The anger dissolved in the blue irises. “I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Thorin felt something break a little in his heart at those words, then mend, to be stronger than before.

 

“And I, you, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

They came together, using their hands, teeth, tongues and lips to explore each other’s naked bodies, feeling the need to take their time, to exalt in every moan, whimper and groan from the other’s lips.

 

Finally, with a determined look, Thorin picked up the small vial of lube from the bedside table and placed it in Bilbo’s hand. For a moment, the hobbit simply looked at him in confusion. Then, awareness dawned.

 

“You don’t have to…”

 

“It is time.” Thorin said. “I am ready. I have seen the pleasure it causes you. I wish to feel it. I wish to feel you, not that vile man.”

 

Their bodies came together, once more. The feeling of long fingers inside his opening was awkward but not entirely unpleasant. Then they reached up and prodded something deep within him. He groaned, jumping further forward, to where Bilbo was stroking him. The double assault was almost too overwhelming, as he felt pleasure unlike he’d ever reached, before the main lovemaking act.

 

“Yes, yes.” He whispered.

 

“How would you like to…?” Bilbo asked.

 

“Like this, on my back. I wish to see you.”

 

Bilbo nodded. Looking into the beloved face, he came to a rather startling conclusion. Bilbo appeared nervous. Thorin suddenly understood that Bilbo was worried about harming him.

 

The dwarf prince could not reassure him that he would not be. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Bilbo’s neck and pulled his face forward, bringing their mouths together with fierce desperation. When Bilbo withdrew his hands and placed himself at the opening, Thorin felt his body stiffen.

 

“If you want me to stop, just say.” Bilbo whispered.

 

_Raynar didn’t stop. No matter my pleadings. And it hurt. It hurt so much. This is going to hurt._

 

“Do you want to stop?” A hand trailed down his back. Thorin suddenly became aware that he was trembling.

 

“No. Keep going.”

 

Bilbo inched forward. Thorin drew in a pained breath. It wasn’t like with Raynar, who ( _every time_ ) had slammed into him with no concern for his welfare. But it still felt… no he wasn’t sure if he could…

 

_Every time. I begged him to not hurt me, if he was to violate me, to at least be more gentle._

 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Bilbo had ceased moving.

 

“Keep going.” Thorin said, grabbing Bilbo’s ass and pushing him forward. Bilbo gasped, as he was driven further into his lover’s tight warmth.

 

“Ok, I’ll just… we’ll go slowly. There’s no rush.”

 

Thorin felt Bilbo’s lips on his neck, his hands wrapped around his now dying erection. He felt himself distancing from the situation.

 

_Raynar had laughed. “You are mine. Which means I’ll do whatever I want.”_

 

 _No!_ He brought himself back. _This is Bilbo. He would not harm you._

For a long moment, Bilbo lay on him, stroking him to fullness, once more, his other hand in his hair, his lips whispering endearments into his ear. Thorin found he couldn’t reciprocate, couldn’t even bring himself to bring his hands up to touch him. Bilbo started to move, tiny sighs sounding into Thorin’s ear with every thrust.

_As long as he's enjoying himself, that's-_

Then Bilbo changed angle, slammed into that spot, once more. Only this time, it rocketed desire through Thorin’s entire body, culminating in the one spot, where Bilbo’s hand was frantically stroking. How could he think that this would be painful? This was…(he started to groan, with every hard press against that spot) this was desire. This was excitement. (the groans grew louder.) Thorin gripped Bilbo’s ass, digging his fingernails in with one hand, while the other reached up to cup his chin, forcing their lips together, to drown out his cries. He found himself moving, thrusting, determined to have more. Need more. With Raynar, there had been no pleasure, only intense pain and overwhelming suffering. But this…He felt himself building, reaching towards the peak, and gave into it. His climax overtook him and he pulled away from Bilbo’s mouth to roar his completion. A few moments later, he heard Bilbo cry out himself, and the familiar feeling of the warmth of his lover’s seed within him. With Raynar, he had heard his cries of ecstasy with horror and dread, had felt the warmth of his seed and felt utterly sickened, had, at one point, literally started to dry retch. With Bilbo, he welcomed his cries of pleasure, the proof of the culmination of his desires within him. Bilbo collapsed against him, breathing heavily against his chest, as he slowly pulled himself out.

 

“Are you…?” Bilbo’s tone was coloured by concern.

 

Thorin ran his hand down the sweat slicked back. “Thank you. That was… that was very pleasurable.”

 

“Well, I do aim to do well by my prince.” Bilbo looked up and grinned at him. Thorin could not help but grin back.

 

“You are so very beautiful.” Bilbo shook his head, and then sprinkled his chest with kisses. “I am a very lucky hobbit.”

 

“And I am a very lucky dwarf.”

 

He was not naïve enough to think that finally giving himself to his lover would cure him of his fears completely. Even in such a place of beauty, it would take a long time to rid himself completely of the dishonour that Raynar put him through, or the dishonour, in regards to his former gold lust. But, with Bilbo beside him, he felt as though he finally could start the long journey of healing.

“Yes, I am very fortunate indeed.”

_And powerful. Yes, I do have immense power._

He wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s back and closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that when he opened them once more, his hobbit would be with him.

 

Fin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
